Daughter of the Moon
by Andreax
Summary: This story is an Historical AU containing characters inspired by Dana Scully as portrayed by Gillian Anderson and Fox Mulder as portrayed by David Duchovny and is intended as an homage.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter one

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13 for violence and graphic imagery

Category: Historical AU

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta

reading and Tanya for her ongoing support

* * *

"There." Edana stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from her knees. "All I need now is some dead nettle."

Glancing up at the sky, she smiled at the moon. "Thank you for showing your face tonight."

She'd gathered herbs during many a full moon when the Lady had been more capricious. Although the Lady didn't cast as much light as the sun, her pale illumination was better than none at all. Edana had been out gathering herbs on countless cloudy and rainy nights so she knew to appreciate this warm evening of the Corn Moon, the tenth Esbat of the year. Summer would soon draw to a close and the nights would once more grow cold. When the Blood Moon rose before the turning of the New Year at Samhain, she would be more concerned with gathering wood than herbs and flowers.

It amused Edana that many people celebrated the New Year after Yule, instead of at Samhain, when the Lord of the Sun returned to the underworld. She suspected it had little to do with adopting the new calendar. Instead, it likely had to do with adding another celebration to the dark days of winter, since no one had given up marking the Sun's death.

Before leaving on her evening's journey, she'd cast her circle and thanked the Goddess and the God, as she did every Esbat. This ritual helped to ensure the plants collected would not only be at the peak of their strength but would carry a blessing as well. It was also for this reason that Edana gave water and honey back to the Earth anywhere she had taken Her gifts.

After retrieving her sacks and baskets, Edana made sure the vials holding the water and honey were sealed and well secured to the girdle about her waist before she began to climb the shallow slope of the dale where she'd been collecting ground ivy. She knew of a good patch of dead nettle on the upland. She still had a decent supply, but a dry night perfect was for harvesting. She might not be blessed with another dry night at the next Esbat.

By planning her night of gathering in a circular route, she wouldn't be far from home when she was done. It would be less than half an hour until she was safely cocooned under her blankets. The road was a ten minute walk from the dale but Edana preferred to use her own paths, even if they were more rugged. It used to be safe for a woman to walk the road by night, but there were many strangers abroad of late. And these strangers didn't practice the old ways nor were they fond of anyone who did.

By day, many of her fellow northerners prayed to the new God and his saints, but they turned to Edana when they were in need. It could be when they were poorly, wanted a child or didn't want one. Whatever the reason, it was her they sought out. She had been in enough houses to see the signs. She knew that behind closed doors, her neighbors still practiced the old ways and came to her with their broken bones and broken hearts.

Prying eyes rarely came this far north, but Edana knew if they did, no one here would tell a stranger much about her. Nobody knew how the invaders felt about the old ways and people hereabouts were always tight-lipped with newcomers. Edana knew that first-hand. While the priest at the local church in Keswick tolerated her beliefs, mostly she thought because he was trying to convert her, she wasn't certain how tight his lips were.

Edana was very young when her parents brought her to Northumbria. Her grandfather had scoffed at the sight of her; a small, pale, scrawny child with a tangled mane of red hair. She didn't want to leave her home or her brothers and sister, so she was happy when the cantankerous old man told her parents to leave and take Edana with them. Edana's mother, Maeve reminded the old man of his promise to teach the healing ways to one of her children if any of them seemed apt. And Edana was definitely apt.

"I can't answer the questions she asks, Da," Maeve explained. "She is very much like you in mind and temper. She's not content at the hearth and constantly pesters Wilburh to take her out to the fields with the boys."

"You and Wilburh can't control your bairn, so you want me to do it?" he asked in amazement.

"No, Da," Maeve sighed. "Edana has a quick mind. She's curious, just like you always hoped I'd be. She's eager to please and is usually quick to as she's told."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Usually?"

Her faeder's concerns made Maeve speak hurriedly.

"I don't have to ask her twice, Da. With you she'll be happier.

She loves to skulk about in the forest and help in the garden. She would be a boon to you now, I think, and she will soak up everything you can teach, like a waterlogged sheep. Right, Edana?"

Edana looked up into her mother's soft blue eyes and simply nodded. She hoped the old man would hate her and send her home, but she'd promised her mother that she would be mindful and cause no grief.

"She looks thin and wan. Is she sickly?" Her grandfather spoke sharply.

"Not at all. She's sure of foot and she's stronger than she looks." Wilburh assured the old man. "She's a tough little thing, probably because she likes to take on her brothers. And she doesn't do half bad," Wilburh chuckled wryly. "But the sun burns her skin, so she's usually either red or white, save the freckles."

Edana felt her cheeks grow hot as the adults talked about her like she wasn't there.

The old man finally agreed to let her stay, swearing that she'd be on the next boat that to the Isle of Man if she caused him any trouble.

That was eleven years ago. At first Edana was terribly homesick, but she said nothing. She was angry with her parents for bringing her here, but at the same time she didn't want to disappoint them.

She quickly grew to love and respect the old man. There was more work to do here than at home, but there was also so much to learn. He taught her all about the plants and animals of the glen. She already knew how to tend farm animals and her grandfather didn't have as many as they had at home. At the market in Keswick he explained how to tell which imported rosemary was the most potent and told her which stalls could be trusted to trade with.

Aldefader taught Edana about the phases of the moon and how they affected everything. She discovered the power of lightning and the restorative ability of spring rain. She was trained in the four elements and the cardinal directions. Then she studied which herbs, stones, colors and animals were linked to each.

Over time she learned when to plant and when to harvest, not only harvesting what she'd planted, but the wild herbs and flowers, as well. Collecting them at the proper time ensured the potency required for the medicines her grandfather taught her to prepare.

Not long after settling in with Aldefader, he began to call her Little Fire. It was a name, he said, not only suited her stature and red tangles, but her temperament as well. Had anyone else used that nickname, Edana's ire would've been ignited, but from her Aldefader, it was more akin to a comforting hug.

As she grew, the old man insisted that Edana had a special gift for knowing what ailed people. She didn't think that was true. All she did was listen. She listened to what her grandfather taught her and she listened to people's complaints. She knew it wasn't a gift. It was simply paying attention.

When Edana was fifteen, seven years after her parents left her with her grandfather, the old man grew ill. She did everything in her considerable knowledge for him, but he told her he was dying.

"I've seen enough death to know," he assured her.

He lingered for a couple of months; steadily dwindling despite Edana's care. People still sought out his healing abilities, even when he was nothing but a shell, barely able to draw breath. They thought it was his care they were receiving and Edana let them think so. When he was finally returned to the earth, under his favorite Rowan tree, she realized she'd made a mistake letting people think the old man was still looking after them. Very few people came to see her. They didn't trust her the same way they'd trusted her grandfather. After a couple of months a few brave souls sought her out, mostly in desperation, she thought. As more and more people turned to her when their other options proved unreliable, word spread that Edana knew everything that her grandfather had, and perhaps a little more.

Edana's heart ached as she thought about the old man. Her ma was right. This was where she belonged. She'd felt more at home by her grandfather's side as he showed her a secret brew or at his feet in front of the fire listening to his wisdom than she'd ever felt on the island of her birth.

She was nineteen now. If she'd stayed with her parents she probably would've had a few bairns of her own already. But she didn't want a husband. It all seemed like too much trouble to her. She could support herself. Almost everything she needed she got from the land; gifts from the God and Goddess. She kept her own bees, made her own candles and soap, and traded for what she couldn't make herself. Cheese and butter, wool and pots, she got in trade. She kept chickens and could trap a rabbit if there wasn't a hen to spare. Fish were abundant in the many streams and rivers nearby. She wanted for nothing except maybe a baby. As far as she could see, that was the only thing she needed a man for. Occasionally she felt a little lonely, but usually no sooner had she felt the first pangs of loneliness when someone would show up at her door. Did she feel lonely enough or want a bairn badly enough to have a man constantly underfoot? She thought not.

Edana was almost out of the valley when the sound of shouting surprised her. It was after midnight. She had no idea who would be out and about at this time of night, other than her, or why they would be yelling. She sank to her knees and strained to listen. There were many voices, words she didn't know, accents that were new to her ears. She heard the whinnying of horses and the clash of swords. Edana knew there was war in the south, but no one had told her it was moving north.

War had always just been epic tales to her; stories of long ago, legends of glory and heroism she heard on long winter evenings by the fire. Aldefader had made the battles sound so romantic, but now as she heard the agonized screams of dying men, war no longer seemed epic or idealistic to her, merely brutal and gruesome.

Edana was sure the beating of her heart and her short shallow breaths could be heard for miles. To her ears, it sounded like the beating of drums and the whoosh of the bellows, but no one entered the wood in search of her.

When the screams finally quelled, a cheer rose up, but Edana couldn't understand the words the victors used. From her crouched position, she heard some shuffling and clanging but then it grew still for a few moments, making her fear she'd been detected. Calming her breath, she tried to remain as still as possible. Her legs began to quiver from her cramped position and she gritted her teeth to keep quiet. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of men climbing onto horses; the scuff of leather against leather, the jangle of the bit in a horse's mouth. She heard the rush of a horse's breath as it exhaled quickly. After a few minutes the men began to talk again and Edana could hear the horses' hooves against the hard-pack on the road. The noise gradually grew more distant but she stayed hunkered down until she could hear no more movement.

Rising slowly, Edana intended to go to the road but her ankle- length woollen tunic had caught in a bramble and she heard it rip. Cursing softly, she freed the fabric and began to move again on still aching legs. She couldn't help but be thankful that she'd chosen to don the blue this night. It was her oldest, most threadbare garment and consequently the coolest. She only wore it for her dirtiest work so it didn't really matter that it would now have an obvious tear. When the trees began to thin out, she could finally see what had happened.

Six figures were strewn along the road. Some had lost entire limbs. Others had been gutted. Setting down the herbs she'd gathered, Edana went to check on the two bodies that appeared whole. The throat of the first man had been slit so deeply his head was almost severed. The other man's head was bloodied, but the gash was shallow. Through the rents in his clothing she could see a more serious problem; a deep wound in his chest.

This man had not been hewn apart like the others, but his injury was severe. Edana hadn't seen many deep chest wounds in her life, but the ones she'd seen had been fatal. Although she didn't hold out much hope for him she knew better than to make assumptions. While she had seen much death she'd also seen people return from the brink too many times to rule anyone out without good reason. Her grandfather taught her that a strong spirit was the most potent medicine. Of course, having the favor of the horned God or the Lady of the moon played a large part in any person's recovery, as well.

Edana kept all of this in her mind as she ripped open the stranger's woollen tunic and linen shift to put her ear to his chest. Knowing that if he was still alive his heartbeat would be faint, she slowed her breathing to calm her own heart so she could hear. Clearing her mind, she thought only of the gentle rays of the Lady and how they kissed the dark leaves of the trees around her. She imagined the moonlight caressing her back. Her body grew warmer and her breathing slowed further. It was then she heard it; a muffled da-dum, then a second and a third. He was alive! But he wouldn't stay that way if she didn't get him to her house quickly.

When she straightened up, she discovered her hair plastered to the side of her face by his blood. In fact, it felt like a weight was hanging from her head. Looking down, even in the moonlight she could see the entire length of her hair was soaked. Now in addition to being torn, her sky-blue tunic would be blood- stained to her waist. For a moment she hoped it wouldn't seep through to her white linen shift. Blood stains were hard to remove and linen was expensive. She immediately admonished herself for thinking such things when a man's life hung by a thread.

Getting to her feet quickly, she gathered fallen branches and fastened them together with vines to form a makeshift pallet. Edana was slight and this was no small man. In spite of how strong she was, she realized she wouldn't be able to drag him by the arms through the woods. That could make his wound bleed even more freely than it already was. After rolling him atop the branches, she gathered her herbs and stuffed them underneath him. She couldn't leave them here. She was going to need the fresh comfrey this very night. Picking up one end of the pallet, she made her way through the undergrowth to her path as fast as she could. Home was half an hour away at a good pace and his weight would slow her down. She wasn't sure he had the time to spare.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter two

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta

reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Edana's arms burned under the strain of the stranger's weight. Her legs, which she'd always thought were stronger than a girl's ought to be, quivered as she struggled up a small hill; one she climbed often with no notice. The brambles and branches she normally pushed aside scraped her cheeks and scratched her hands, but she trudged forward.

"Home is one step closer," she said aloud to convince herself that relief was not far away. "Good Lady, increase my strength," she beseeched the moon.

Her tunic, which had once been wet with the man's blood, was now drenched in her own sweat. Her lungs burned as she tried to suck in more air.

"Not far now." She panted and then wondered who she was trying to convince.

When she was about a hundred feet from the three-story building, her hound, Wulf, trotted out to see what all of the commotion was about. These days Wulf mostly laid around in the sun or by the hearth. It pleased Edana to know that he still kept his watch.

Unlike the houses in the village, Aldefader built his home into the side of a small hill. This meant that from the front, a person could walk straight into the undercroft, like most houses. But at the back, the ground was level with the main floor. The path that led to the front of the house split and veered off up a small hill at its side. She only had to drag him up another small slope before she could finally set him down, yet it seemed like the highest mountain she'd ever climbed. The door at the rear of the house was narrow so she had to take hold of the man under his arms to drag him into the house.

She'd often wondered about the odd design the old man had chosen but at last she understood. Aldefader always had a reason for everything. While he was much stronger in his prime, he still wouldn't have wanted to carry a full grown man up the stairs at the front of the house; especially an ill or injured one. If not for her grandfather's shrewd layout she would've had to keep the man on the ground in the draughty undercroft until he was able to walk on his own. Though it was mostly enclosed, in a good storm the wind still drove rain in amongst its arches.

Fearing she had little time, Edana began to tend to the man where he lay in front of the main room's hearth. The wound to his chest was deep and it still oozed blood. She needed to staunch it quickly. Since she hadn't made it to the dead nettle bushes, she would have to use up almost all of her reserves for poultices to stop the flow of blood from both of his wounds.

Using her knife, she cut away his bloody tunic. She fetched a candle from the mantle and lit it from the fire. Being careful not to drip any wax, she inspected his chest closely. The edges of the cut weren't ragged, meaning the blade had been sharp. She doubted the weapon had been honed to prevent serious injury, but it was an irony she enjoyed.

Working swiftly, Edana crafted two poultices. One she used for his head, the other, his chest. While waiting for the bleeding to stop, Edana stored the herbs she'd collected and prepared the comfrey salve she would need to cover both injuries. Checking on the success of the dressing several times while she worked, she made sure the bleeding had well and truly ceased before applying the ointment and shielding the wounds with clean linen.

As soon as she was satisfied that she could do no more for his injuries, she saw to making the stranger comfortable. After retrieving bedding from a room where Aldefader usually treated the sick, she made up a pallet by the fire and eased the man onto it.

For now she would have to give up her comfortable bed on the floor above to stay at the man's side, but it was better than many nights sleeping on the ground of the undercroft.

For three days Edana did nothing but see to her charge's needs. She bathed the man twice a day. Aldefader taught her that the sickly had to be washed often. They didn't have the benefit of the sun, air and rain to remove any poisons their bodies expelled. After cleansing him with fresh water in place of the rain, Edana anointed the man's head, hands and feet with oil of rosemary for the sun and mint for the air. She had to prop him up with cushions to give him water and broth. Relief flooded over her the first time she fed him. If he hadn't been able to swallow, all of her efforts would have been wasted.

She realized the first night she would have to keep him swaddled to stop him soiling the bedclothes, like she had with her grandfather toward the end. It made her feel odd to slip the pieces of linen under him, draw them between his legs and fasten them about his waist. Aldefader had been old and frail, but it was obvious that this man was in his prime. The swaddling resulted in even more work, but she had no other option.

On the second day she washed his hair, being mindful to stay clear of the newly dried gash on his head. Though his dark hair was not as long as her own, it was well past his shoulders. When she began to run warm water over it, she discovered it held a secret. Its colour had hidden a vast amount of dried blood. It took several ewers to rinse it thoroughly. Once it was almost dry, she poured oil of cedar into her palms and gently pulled it through his hair. Then after combing it back, she braided it to lie flat and tied the end with a leather thong. This kept it out of her way stopped it being a bother to his head. She hoped the restorative and soothing powers of the oil would speed his waking.

Despite her care, the stranger hadn't regained consciousness in those three turns of the sun, but Edana could tell he'd improved. His heartbeat was stronger and his pallor had improved. She was relieved that neither of his injuries had begun to fester. Her special salve recipe was the secret. Many people knew about comfrey, but the addition of ground ivy was what brought people from miles around to her door. No one else except her grandfather had known what made their salve different and she intended to keep it that way.

The cut on his head did not make her fret. It had stopped bleeding quickly and the scar would mostly be hidden under his hair. She hoped he would wake up soon and be happy about that.

It was the other wound that worried Edana. She had no way of knowing if he still bled inside his chest. Since he was stronger it made her hopeful, but the only thing she could be positive of was, if he continued to bleed, it wasn't heavy. He wouldn't still be alive otherwise.

Edana slept when she could, napping often like Wulf. On the third afternoon after she'd dragged the injured man home, during one such nap, the hound woke her with a cold nose to her cheek.

She opened one eye to squint at him. "What?"

He ambled to the open door and then turned to look at her.

She raised herself up on one elbow. "Is someone here?"

Sitting down in the doorway, Wulf began to pant.

As she was sitting up, Edana heard the crack of someone stepping on a branch. She hoped no one was seriously ill. Her hands were full as it was. Joining Wulf in the sunlit entry, she bent to give his head a scratch.

"Good hound."

Seemingly content with his praise, he moved to lie completely in the sun on the wooden porch. The path that led to the road began at the bottom of the steps beneath him. With his head on his paws and his eyes on the path, Wulf's ears twitched at every sound the approaching visitor made.

When she could finally make out a figure through the trees, Edana recognized him immediately.

"Edmund!" she exclaimed as she stepped onto the porch. "I'm surprised to see you."

Being the reeve of Keswick, Edmund the Fair was a very important man in the shire. At forty he was getting on in age, and his girth made his gait unmistakable. The fair hair of his nickname was mostly absent now and what was left had faded to a washed out almost-gray. Edana had no doubt that his horse and cart was tethered to a tree out on the road. In his state of health, Edmund could not have walked from Keswick. Despite his labored breathing and sweaty countenance, she knew he'd only walked about a hundred yards. The reeve rarely walked anywhere these days, so whatever brought him here was important.

"Is everyone all right? How is Swayn?" She had cared for Edmund's twelve year old son when he was ill with the bloody flux last winter.

Even though he had more than enough money to hire one of the doctors from Keswick, Edmund had opted for her healing ways instead.

"They wanted to bleed him," he'd told her, a horrified look on his face. "If bloodletting is the cure, why doesn't the bloody flux heal him on its own?"

She respected the rotund reeve for his astute observation. He was an intelligent man; a quality she admired more than his wealth or title. Edana knew that bloodletting had its place, but Aldefader said doctors these days were using it far too often and harming more patients than they were healing.

"Swayn is well," Edmund assured her as he caught his breath at the foot of the stairs. "He's back to causing my good wife no end of trouble." He looked up at her with a grin, but his face turned serious quickly. "I'm here to see how you are faring."

"Me?" Edana's hand flew to her chest in surprise. "I'm in good health. Why do you ask?"

"And your patient?" He fixed his eyes on hers as he slowly climbed the steps.

"How do you know I'm caring for someone, Edmund? And why has that knowledge brought you here?" Her heart began to flutter. It wasn't uncommon for the women in the area to gossip about who was being treated for which illness, but she had never known the reeve to take the slightest interest in such matters.

He shook his head as he reached the step below her, bringing them eye to eye. "First things first, what do you know of the recent troubles, Edana?"

"Aside from my belief that they have little to do with me…" She paused and took a deep breath. "I know that Harold Godwinson was defeated at Hastings by a Norman duke who now calls himself king. And this duke, William, the one they call the Bastard, only won because King Harold's best men were at Stamford Bridge trying to stop another raid by the Northmen. Why is Anglia treated like some tasty morsel these men feel they have a right to fight over?" Edana realized her hands were balled into fists.

"I think because it is just that," Edmund said almost sadly. "Anglia is a land of riches. Even with all of the plundering, the raids and the danegeld, there is still so much wealth here these men can't stop themselves."

"So we've been overrun by greedy men. What else is there to know?" She sighed.

"Has news of the rebellion reached you?"

"Rebellion?"

"Perhaps we should sit." He leaned to look past her into the house.

Edana saw no point in trying to hide anything from the shire reeve. He already seemed to be familiar with who was in her house.

"Of course, Edmund." She stepped aside to let him pass. "I shouldn't have been so rude."

"Think nothing of it." He brushed her concern aside with a wave of his hand. As he entered the house, she saw him take note of the stranger, still unconscious on the pallet.

"Please, sit." Edana waved her guest toward the chair at the far end of the table.

Edmund said nothing about the injured man; he simply sat down with a sigh of relief in Aldefader's heavy oaken chair.

"Would you like something to drink?" Edana knew Edmund had travelled many miles to see her. "Some mead or ale, perhaps?"

"Ah, your ale, Edana." The large man smiled at her. "The promise of it alone might prompt me to make this journey."

"Kind words won't win you the recipe." Edana turned to retrieve the jug from its home on a shelf in the darkest corner of the room.

Luckily she'd brewed fresh ale the day before the Corn Moon and she always kept one cask for her own use; the rest went to her Thane, Osric. He owned the land Edana lived on. As rent, she provided his household with mead and ale. It was an arrangement that had been in place longer than even Aldefader had been able to remember. In most manors, the ale was brewed by the cook, but in Keswick, the Thane's ale had always been brewed by her mader's family.

Aldefader claimed it was Aldemader that had perfected the recipe. It was an assertion Edana would have to believe on faith. Her grandmother had died before Edana was born. Many a time, as a young lass, Edana wondered why the healing ways she was learning hadn't worked for Aldemader, but any time she broached the subject, Aldefader had ended her queries brusquely. It was the one question he never answered.

Making the ale was one of the first things Aldefader taught her. He explained that a good ale had healing powers and with the herbs they added to their barley mash, he believed their recipe would cure all ills. As she poured a cup for Edmund, Edana couldn't help a small smile as she remembered the twinkle in the old man's eyes whenever he spoke of his ale.

After handing Edmund his drink, Edana sat at the opposite end of the table and looked at him expectantly.

Edmund took a long draw of his ale before beginning. "So, the rebellion." He paused to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic before continuing, "The Bastard dispossessed the earl of Northumbria at Durham and replaced him with one of his own men, Robert De Comines. William has been doing this all over Anglia, whether the old earls pledge their fealty or not. In Durham, the new earl wasn't well received and a large group of men, some from as far away as Mercia, raided Durham to overthrow him. The raid turned into a massacre, and De Comines was killed."

Edana brought a hand to her mouth and her eyes flicked briefly to the injured man by her fire.

"But it didn't stop there." Edmund paused to take another drink. "The rebels, bolstered by their victory, continued south to York. What they didn't know was that as they were heading south, so was William's army heading north. The English forces arrived in York first and laid siege to the Norman castle. But William had more men and they easily defeated the insurgents yet that wasn't enough for him. They didn't just kill the revolters; they massacred the inhabitants of York as well."

"Surely the story has been exaggerated!" Edana had never heard of something so monstrous.

"It is said The Bastard has a bad temper and a long memory; a brutal pairing. Since the rebellion, he has been hunting down any rebels that escaped. I've heard that parts of Northumbria are now a waste. William's men have been burning villages and salting the land."

"But he could have profited from that land." Edana shook her head. "Why would he do himself that injury?"

"To make sure no one considers rebelling again," Edmund told her grimly. "Who would support such a campaign after William laid waste to the land around Durham and York?"

Edana felt her head begin to swim as she realized what she'd done; the danger she'd put herself in. "And he is one of the men who fought there?"

"Yes."

"You know this for certain?"

"I know that William considers him to be one of his enemies. That's all that matters," Edmund stated bluntly.

"But how do you know?"

"Three days ago a group of the King's men rode into Keswick. They stopped at Cedric the Younger's inn and told everyone there that six enemies of the King had been killed. Their bodies could be found on the road toward Thelkeld, about two miles from Keswick."

"Why did they tell everyone?" Edana thought she might never understand the way of war.

"The one who could speak English tossed six silver pennies onto the table, one for each corpse, and told Cedric to see that they had a Christian burial. The Normans are a pious people," Edmund continued.

And rich, Edana thought. Those coins would pay a skilled man for six months labour. The incongruity of the Norman soldier's actions puzzled her. Why be so exuberant about taking lives and then be concerned about their souls? Still she kept quiet to let Edmund finish his tale.

"Before he left, the English speaker turned and said 'Let this be a lesson to you. King William does not tolerate dissenters. He will leave no stone unturned. He will hunt down every one and kill him.'"

"But they think he's dead." Edana thought that fact would save her.

"Five men went out to fetch those bodies and I know and trust every one of them." Edmund nodded slowly as he spoke.

"But?" Edana shifted in her chair. The look in the reeve's eyes unnerved her.

"Those five weren't the only men drinking that day. They took a penny each, leaving one to be spent on ale. For those that stayed, the promise of free ale was more appealing than sweating for what would be left of the five silvers after the cost of the burial. Six silver pennies will spawn an enthralling tale. And that's not the worst of it," the Reeve said and then paused for a long draught of his ale. "They took the bodies to the new church to be buried by the young priest, Augustine."

Her stomach fell. "Why him, when there are priests who are much better known in these parts?"

Edana and the cleric did not see eye to eye. When he tried to persuade her to come to his church, she explained that she still practiced the old ways. His face became stony.

"You'll burn in the fires of hell," he'd warned her.

Edana hadn't responded. His threat didn't frighten her. She'd heard of the fiery hell of Christians but she didn't believe in it. She knew when she died she would join those who had gone before, underground with the Lord of the sun. If her grandfather hadn't been born to a new life by then, she would see him there. For that reason, Edana didn't fear death; dying maybe, but not death. Nor did she fear the priest or at least she hadn't until now.

"It was the closest," Edmund said with a small shrug. "The five pallbearers didn't immediately recognize the significance of finding one less corpse than the soldiers described. I wasn't present at the Inn. By the time I heard the tale, the five bearing five were already at the churchyard. I chose to visit the place the soldiers had described. I have never been so thankful for my inquisitive nature. If I hadn't gone, I never would have realized your actions. I knew that I could still their tongues if I got to them soon enough. When I inquired of them after, none recollected repeating the numbers the soldiers had told them."

"And you trust them to keep mum? To what benefit for them? Surely there would be a reward for such a report." Edana's head reeled. Her words and deeds had landed her in scrapes before, but none so grave as this.

"Not all poor men are greedy, Edana," Edmund chided softly.

"Of course not, forgive my haste to cast aspersions." She apologized quickly, feeling her cheeks grow hot. Aldefader had cautioned her regularly about her quick tongue. Her passions often consumed her good sense.

"They know you and value your talent. They also sympathize with the cause of the fallen. It is a secret they are happy to keep. I fear Augustine will be the cause of our grief," Edmund told her, his face solemn.

"What does he know?"

"He knows five bodies were buried. He doesn't yet know it was supposed to be six." Edmund lifted his cup to drain it when he finished speaking.

Edana got up immediately to refill it. "So, if questioned, he'll say five rebels were killed?" she asked quietly.

"Without a doubt."

"But why would anyone ask?" Edana sat down after giving the reeve his ale.

"These Normans are establishing new churches. The King has given a quarter of the land to the church," he explained.

"A quarter of what land?" Edana knew that kings owned land, but was surprised to hear that one would consider giving it to the church, no matter how religious he might be. Land meant income and a king needed money.

"He's claimed all of the land in every shire as his own and a quarter of it he's passed to the church."

"What!" Edana jumped up and began to pace. "What about Osric? Has he lost his land?" She knew if her Thane was dispossessed, her way of life was also in peril.

"You can thank your Goddess that our little corner of Anglia is in dispute; it's currently claimed by Scotland."

"We've got nothing to worry about then." She looked at her guest hopefully.

"I've heard that William wants everything north of the Humber, past the wall, right up to the Liddel."

"But Malcolm will try to stop him." Edana knew that the King of Scotland was not one to just roll over.

"Yes, but Osric doesn't want to be in the middle of a tug of war between William and Malcolm, so he has offered William something," Edmund told her warily.

"Offered him what?" Edana steeled herself against the answer.

"Osric knows how important the church is to the Normans, so he has offered land to build churches on," he replied.

"Playing to their love of Rome." Edana nodded sagely.

"Exactly," Edmund agreed still looking concerned.

"What am I missing?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I think Osric's scheme will keep the peace."

"It will, Edana, but William has another reason for building so many churches."

"What reason?" Edana felt her brow furrow as she tried to conceive of a reason for building churches beyond piety or trying to win favor with Rome.

"All of these clerics, monks and priests have this land at the King's will. In return he expects them to be his eyes and ears. They know everyone's business, Edana."

"So you think it could get back to the King that only five were buried?" She felt a chill take over her body. Moving slowly, she sat down at the table again.

"I have no doubt," Edmund told her solemnly.

"What will I do?" She looked up to meet his eyes. "I can't turn away a man who is seriously injured. He may not even live."

"The King won't care if he lives or dies. You tried to help him. Your punishment will be the same as his."

Edana lowered her eyes to stare at her clasped hands. She had no idea what to do. Even if she'd known the consequences, she likely would've chosen to help the stranger.

"I see only one way out of this." Edmund's words made Edana's head jerk up.

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

"No one can know who he really is." He lifted his chin toward the unconscious man.

"And who am I to say he is, Edmund?"

"I've been thinking about that from the moment I realized you brought him here."

"You never explained that. How did you know?" Edana cocked her head at him.

"I saw the marks leading off the road where he'd been dragged. I knew the slaughter took place on the full moon and I knew it was close to your house." He shrugged.

"Then the others could figure it out, too." Her heart fell.

"I said nothing and smoothed out the ruts you'd left. No one else will make the connections I did."

"How can I ever thank you, Edmund?"

"Don't thank me yet," he laughed ruefully. "We don't know that my plan will work."

"Do you see any other way?" She asked him bluntly.

He shook his head.

"Then tell me what you're thinking. I have to see to him." She nodded toward the pallet. "But I can listen and work at the same time. My grandfather made sure of that."

As Edmund began to lay out his plan, Edana stood up to tend to the cause of her problems.

End chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter three

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Edana POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

After they'd devised their plan, it didn't take Edana long to convince Edmund to stay for a meal, but once he'd sopped up the gravy from his bowl with a hunk of bread and washed it down with the last of his ale, he took his leave.

The reeve's visit had drained her more than the sleepless nights of caring for the stranger. She wondered, ruefully, if perhaps she should start thinking of him as the rebel instead. She fed him more mutton broth and water, then put two drops of tincture of willow under his tongue. When she was sure there was no more risk of bleeding, she would switch to meadowsweet. It worked better to cut pain, but it thinned the blood.

The use of meadowsweet had been the hardest lesson Edana had ever learned, though not by her own mistake. In place of coming to Aldefader, a woman from a near-by farm had chosen to treat her own pain after the birth of her fifth bairn. The meadowsweet worked to ease her discomfort. She didn't notice that her flow of blood was heavier than after her other bairns. By the time Aldefader was summoned she had lost too much. With all of his wisdom, even her grandfather could not save the woman. If that wasn't enough to ensure Edana never forgot the proper time for the use of willow, the loss of the bairn would. There was nothing to be done. It had been winter and no animals were in milk. There hadn't even been a woman within miles to act as wet nurse for the wee thing.

Edana tried to put the memory out of her mind. It had taken her a long time to forgive Aldefader for not letting her bring the bairn back with them. She was sure she would be able to keep the wee lad alive.

"He can't survive without his mader," Aldefader insisted. "You would only be drawing out his pain. Oftentimes we have the skill to save, even though the fight may be a difficult one. Other times, no matter how much you struggle, you'll lose the fight. Sometimes you can't tell whether you'll win the fight or not. Times like this, you know before the battle begins, it's already lost. The secret, Little Fire, is to know the difference."

If she thought too long about the squalling bairn, his red little face would invade her dreams, so she tried to put the memory aside as she made sure the man was well covered. Exhausted, she finally sank to the pallet she'd made up beside him. She wouldn't return to her own bed until the man was much improved.

In spite of her weariness, it took Edana a long time to get to sleep. Her mind went over everything Edmund had told her. In all of her life she never would've imagined being caught up in anything so fantastic. Her life had always been quiet, following the patterns established by nature. The only interruption was from the people requiring the knowledge Aldefader had passed to her. That was why she hadn't thought twice about helping this man; it was like it was bred into her bones. No other thought had entered her head. She cursed herself for being so unworldly. If she'd had an inkling about what was going on in the rest of Anglia she would have covered her tracks.

In the pale light of early morning a noise woke Edana. When she first opened her eyes and looked around she wasn't able to fix on its source. Wulf was asleep in front of the hearth, leading her to believe all was well. She was just closing her eyes when she heard it again. This time she sat up, getting Wulf's attention. He trotted toward her, but went to the stranger instead.

"Hello?" a faint gravelly voice rasped.

"You're awake!" Edana got to her knees by the man's side.

"Where am I?" He blinked up at her.

"Outside of Keswick," she said as she put the back of her hand to his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Stiff and sore," he told her; his voice sounded stronger. "Who are you?"

"I'm called Edana. I've been taking care of you."

"Where is the doctor?" He turned his head only to be greeted by a lick from Wulf.

"Go lie down!" Edana jerked her head toward the fire. The hound obeyed, settling with his head on his paws to watch them.

Edana rose and went to the hearth to fetch a candle from the mantle. After lighting it from the fire, she returned to her knees by the man's side and looked closely at his face.

"There is no doctor; only me. My grandfather taught me the healing ways," she explained.

"Women aren't healers." He shook his head. "Maybe midwives."

"And yet here you are," she retorted dryly. "Do you remember what happened?"

"We were trying to get to Scotland," he said with a nod. "Trying to outrun William's men."

"This part of Northumbria is ruled by Scotland, but that didn't save you."

"The others?" His hazel eyes looked at her hopefully.

"They didn't live," she replied quietly.

"William is well called the Bastard." The man shifted on his pallet, anger apparent on his face.

"I understand you are grieving but please try to calm yourself. You have much healing yet to do. What is your name?" She hoped to distract him.

"Mylward."

"Your family owns a mill?"

He nodded.

"I think perhaps milling is safer work than rebelling."

Mylward turned his head to look at her and she thought she saw a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"I need to get up." He grasped at the sides of the pallet as if to pull himself up. Before Edana could chastise him, he winced and released his hold.

"It will be a few days before you will be up. You were badly injured." She kept her voice soft.

"But I need to use the feltun." He had a pained expression on his face.

She shook her head. "You'll have to use a pot for now. I'll get it." Hurrying to the undercroft, Edana retrieved the pot she'd had to use for Aldefader in his last weeks. She was thankful she hadn't disposed of it. The old man had always said you might find use for things again.

When she returned she found Mylward peering under his woolen blanket. Until he spoke she assumed he was looking at his scabbed-over wound.

"You have me swaddled like a cradolcild." He frowned at her.

"What should I have done? Leave you to lie in your own filth?"

He didn't answer. Instead his fingers went to his injury.

"Leave it." She swatted his hand away. "You'll only make it fester." She turned and placed the pot on the floor.

"How long have I been here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Four days," she said as she moved the blanket off him

"I am in your debt." He regarded her with a solemn expression.

"You can repay me by keeping your health," she murmured as she began to loosen the cloth she'd used to swaddle him.

"Let me do that." He tried to push her hands away.

"And by being less trouble." She glared at him.

"It feels –" he paused. "We are not known to each other."

"Shall I run and fetch someone you do know?"

"I'm sorry. This is strange to me."

Edana was surprised that his apology sounded sincere. "It's new to me, too." Edana told a half truth, not wanting to explain about caring for Aldefader. It was true that she'd never had to care for a stranger like this before. "But I do what must be done." She dropped the cloth to the floor.

He nodded, preferring to stare at the wall rather than meet her eyes.

"Now then." She turned and picked up the pot. Tipping it toward him, she took his pintel in her hand and pointed it into the pot.

He turned to look at her with one eye open. "I can imagine many ways this would have a much more pleasant ending."

"How many end with you reopening your wound?" she asked wryly.

"I don't think I can – let me hold it. I can reach." He tried to take hold of himself.

"Yes, but how is your aim presently?" She didn't release her hold. "I don't need more washing to do."

"But I can't-" His voice was tight.

"Would it help if I looked away?"

"It would help if I could go to the feltun."

"Let me try something else." Edana released her hold on him and set the pot down. Taking every blanket and pillow she had, she propped Mylward up, making him more upright. Then she gently moved his legs apart and set the pot between them. "Now if you should lose your grip, you won't get piss everywhere."

"Thank you," he mumbled as she turned to leave him.

"Call me when you're through." Edana went outside to wait at the top of the stairs. Wulf followed her, but then continued down the stairs and into the woods to relieve himself. She couldn't help wishing it was that easy with Mylward. Looking at the sky, Edana tried to judge the time. It was overcast, but she could tell the sun was higher than she'd realized. Her wakefulness the night before had led to a late morning. Her stubborn charge had only made her later. In her mind she began to make a list of everything she needed to do. She was barely halfway when Mylward called that he was done.

After taking the pot to the feltun, Edana left Mylward sitting somewhat upright and let him feed himself some watery porridge. While he was eating she gathered up the swaddling and put it in the basket with the other things she needed to wash. When he'd finished the porridge, he happily took the cup of ale she offered and drained it quickly. As she took the empty cup she noticed that his eyes were getting heavy.

"It's time for you to rest again," she murmured as she began to remove blankets and pillows from behind his back.

"Where are my tunics?" he asked, looking down at himself.

"Up the chimney," she told him as she helped him settle back.

"What?" he blinked rapidly.

"They were too torn and bloody to be saved."

"What will I wear?" He looked aghast.

"Do you need something to sleep in?"

"I don't usually." He shook his head. "But-"

She found his modesty amusing in light of the care she'd been giving him, but didn't mention it since his ease was most crucial in regaining his health." When you wake next, I'll give you a linen tunic to wear. All right?"

"And when I'm allowed up?"

"I'll stitch you some new ones." She pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. "Now close your eyes."

"Mmm." He let out a slow breath. "Tired."

"Stubbornness must be a good quality in a rebel," she muttered to herself as she turned away.

"It is." A sleepy voice behind her answered.

As Edana hurried toward her squawking chickens she wondered when the best time would be to tell Mylward about the plan. She hadn't told him the real reason she'd burned his clothes. She'd cleaned and mended them before Edmund's visit. When she showed him the garments he told her the stitching around the neck opening and cuffs was too telling. It might be a family pattern or that of his Lord. Whichever it was, it was sure to give him away.

The scheme they'd come up with included Edmund's son Swayn coming to stay. He would bring the cloth Edana would use to make the new garments and she would stitch them with Edmund's family pattern. Until Mylward was well enough to be on his way, Swayn would stay under Edana's roof for the sake of propriety. Edmund thought an extra pair of hands might help Edana, as well, especially with a patient under her roof.

She began her chores by distracting the hens with food. While they pecked at the mush she collected their eggs and filled their water. Then, with empty mush bowl in hand, she went to see to her own breakfast. She was just finishing when she heard Swayn approaching. It amazed her that a lad who weighed no more than five stone could make more noise than a man who weighed four times as much.

Edana pointed Mylward out to the boy after she'd relieved him of his bundle.

"Mind you hush while he sleeps," Edana cautioned him.

"What happened to him?" Swayn's eyes were wide.

At first it didn't occur to Edana that the lad wouldn't know the whole story, but she understood the fewer people who knew the truth, the better.

"He was thrown from his horse. A branch punctured his chest."

Swayn's eyes widened further at Edana's explanation.

"Let's get you settled," she said, hustling him toward the stairs.

Once Edana had shown the lad where he'd be sleeping she asked him to go to the plum thicket that grew next to the stream that ran to the south of the house.

"How many can I eat?" Swayn's eyes danced.

"As many as you like, just bring these back full." She handed him two baskets. "I'll dry some, make a batch of jam and if you get back quickly, I'll make a pudding for tonight."

Edana feared that having Swayn underfoot was going to be more of a hindrance than a help, so as she saw to her own work she tried to think of things to keep him busy. In the mornings, he could gather the eggs and tend to the chickens. With Swayn's help, she could move Mylward's pallet away from the hearth and then give the hearth a good cleaning. The more she thought about it, she realized that Edmund's son might be a great help, after all.

When she'd cleaned up the pot and bowls from breakfast, Edana started a fresh tincture of willow on the fire to simmer . She'd almost emptied the supply she had on hand. Then she sat down to start work on Mylward's tunic. The garment itself would be finished quickly; it was the needlework patterns that would take time. Luckily, stitching was a skill her mader had taught her before she left the Isle of Man, because Aldefader had been hopeless at it. In fact, most of his tunics were in tatters when Edana arrived. She'd spent her first few weeks making him look less like a beggar and more like the learned man he was.

Edana had stitched half of the hem by the time Mylward stirred. She lifted her eyes from her work to watch him. He blinked slowly and then smacked his lips.

"Thirsty?" she asked in amusement.

"Very," he said in a raspy voice. "And my mouth tastes like your hound has been using it as a feltun."

Edana had to laugh at the image he'd created in her mind. "You lost a great amount of blood, so your body is dry. Also, I've been putting tinctures under your tongue. They tend to be bitter. I'll give you a small cup of ale, or mead if you'd prefer, and I'm going to make you a brew instead of a tincture. That should help with the taste in your mouth." She set the tunic aside.

"The ale you gave me earlier was quite good. Could I have more of that?"

"Certainly." Edana smiled and got to her feet. "But let's sit you up a little first."

"When will I have the strength to sit up on my own? I feel as weak as a nestling," he said with a sigh as Edana propped him up.

"In a few days you'll be feeling stronger, but full heartiness will take time. Your injury was severe. You are lucky to be alive. The weapon that pierced your chest touched neither your heart nor your lungs. And if the blow to your noggin hadn't left you stunned, your enemy would have realized his thrust had missed the mark."

"I don't like being confined," Mylward said, wrinkling his nose.

"If you do as you're bid, it will shorten your confinement," she said with a wink, using a term that was normally reserved for women in the latter stages of pregnancy.

He chuckled at her joke, but said nothing.

"Why don't I get that linen tunic for you?" she offered.

"I would appreciate that." He smiled weakly. "But maybe you should put a cushion under my feet first, so my ankles don't swell."

As Edana climbed the stairs she smiled to herself. A sense of humuor was a good sign. She knew it meant his spirit was strong. When she was returning with one of Aldefader's good under-tunics, she heard Swayn clumping up the stairs calling her name. She sighed, wondering if it was even possible for a twelve year old to be quiet. By the time she got downstairs, Swayn was standing just inside the door, his two baskets brimming with plums.

"Set those on the table, please." She nodded toward it.

"Dalton! I'm glad you're awake. I've never met my cousins from Mercia." Swayn strode to the table, his shoes depositing mud from the stream bank on the floor as he went.

Edana saw Mylward's brow wrinkle and his mouth open to speak.

"Leave the poor man alone and I thought I asked you not to make so much noise! Go get me two buckets of water and don't tarry!" Edana spoke briskly to keep her patient from questioning the eager boy.

As soon as Swayn was back outside she turned to Mylward.

"We can't let anyone know who you are, so we are calling you Dalton. Swayn thinks you're his cousin from Mercia, the second son of his aunt and uncle. It easily explains why you have come here. No one will question a second son leaving home to make his own way in the world." Edana kept her voice low.

Mylward stared at her; mouth agape.

Putting a finger under his chin, she gently closed his mouth. "There is naught to fear now. We've seen to that. Because if anyone were to figure that out that you're one of the rebels, it wouldn't only be your head on the block." Edana spoke calmly but quickly, in contrast to her movements as she eased Mylward's arms into the sleeves of the tunic. "That's why Swayn believes you to be his cousin. His father, Edmund, is the reeve of Keswick."

Mylward's eyes widened at her last words.

"He's a good man, Edmund is," she assured him. "I would not have realized there was any danger had it not been for his counsel."

"I don't want to put you at risk." The look in Mylward's eyes had changed from shock to concern.

"There is no danger," she vowed as she carefully pulled the white garment to his waist, "as long as you are Dalton of Mercia."

Edana had returned to the table to get Mylward the ale she'd promised him when Swayn reappeared with the water, red-faced and panting.

"Where should I put these?" He lifted both pails.

She smiled at him, hoping she hadn't been overly harsh with him earlier. "To the side of the hearth will do. Thank you, Swayn. Could you stoke up the fire and then fill the kettle for me, as well? Take care not to spill-"

The word had no sooner left her mouth when the boy's leg bumped one of the buckets, sending a wave of water to the floor.

"Sorry," he muttered, keeping his eyes lowered.

Edana rethought the boy's usefulness. "Don't fret," she said with a sigh as she passed Mylward his ale. "You just sit and get to know your cousin."

"All right," Swayn's face brightened.

Edana stirred up the fire and added some wood to it. As she filled up the kettle she listened to Swayn's chatter.

"I've heard stories about my Aunt Hilda, from before my fader left to find his fortune," Swayn told Mylward.

"She was still young when he left, but she remembered him fondly," Mylward said slowly.

"Yes. Fader often talks about how he had to leave Mercia to work in the wool business because he wasn't the firstborn son." Swayn regarded his cousin with interest. "But he said your fader, my Uncle Godred, did have a birthright and inherited a large farm with many sheep."

"Certainly not the largest in Mercia, but it's a good size," Mylward said modestly.

Swayn prattled on, "I think living on a farm would be a pleasure. Keswick is crowded. There's no room to run. But Fader says there is much hard labor in farming. There's no birthright to have when your father is a reeve, but I'm not the firstborn anyway. I would've been on my own either way. Fader says there will be a little money for me. I'd like to buy a farm even though the work is hard. I think I would like to raise cattle or sheep."

"The hours are long and the work can be both backbreaking and tedious," Mylward warned and then took a draw of his ale.

"You don't like farming?" The boy cocked his head at his cousin.

"We are much alike, cousin. I have no birthright either, but even so, I never wanted to farm."

"Ah." Swayn nodded sagely, mimicking a gesture of his father's. "Are there no pretty girls in Mercia, Dalton?" he continued.

"There are some." Mylward grinned.

"But none so appealing as Edana," Swayn said firmly.

"She is lovely," Mylward agreed with a chuckle.

Edana ignored their teasing, knowing Mylward was merely humouring the boy. Instead she set about cleaning the mess Swayn had made of her floor.

"You must think so if you've come all this way to marry her!"

End chapter 3.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter four

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Mylward POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Mylward couldn't believe his ears. Marry her? Edana was definitely a winsome creature, but he wasn't prepared to spend the rest of his life with her, even if she had saved him. Did she and the reeve figure he was obliged to wed her? These thoughts coursed through his mind in mere seconds. Swayn was still burbling, but Mylward couldn't hear what he was saying.

As he turned to look at Edana, he tried not to let his shock show on his face. When his eyes lit on her he was surprised to find her blushing.

"Swayn," she interjected. "I think you misunderstood your fader." In spite of her obvious embarrassment, her voice remained calm. She swung the kettle over the fire as though nothing untoward had been said.

Mylward felt relief wash over him but tried to remain as unperturbed as Edana had.

The boy shook his fair head at Edana. "No. Fader said Dalton was here to marry you."

"Not exactly, Swayn." The redhead's voice sounded tight with impatience. "Dalton came here to visit your family and look at some land. Your father thought we should meet since we are both marriageable, but nothing was arranged. Perhaps your father had his hopes up and that is where you became confused."

Cocking his head to one side, the boy squinted and pursed his lips. Finally he took a deep breath and asked, "So you aren't getting married?"

Edana shook her head. "We've only just met."

Even in his weakened state Mylward enjoyed how much the situation had disquieted the pretty healer.

"I think Edana is far more familiar with me than I am with her," he told the boy. "I'd like to change that." He offered her his most winning smile.

He heard the boy draw a breath to say something else, but Edana held up her hand to silence him.

"Dalton needs his rest; he's still very weak. Stop pestering him and be off with you. Your midday meal will be ready in about an hour."

Swayn's shoulders slumped and then he opened his mouth to speak, but Edana cut him off.

"And if you can't find something to do, I'll find something for you."

Needing no more urging, the lad was out of the door so fast the hound jumped up in interest, but only followed him to the porch.

"Why were you encouraging him?" Edana turned to Mylward in bewilderment. "I don't like this predicament either, so shall we try not to make it worse than it already is?"

Mylward drained what remained of his ale and then fixed his eyes on her. "Does this mean the marriage is off?"

Ignoring his attempt at wit, Edana made her way to the other end of the room. Mylward wasn't sure if it was the boy's prattling, but he started to look at her differently. Despite his poor health, he couldn't help but notice her charms.

Her face was the first thing he'd seen and he'd thought he still slumbered and she was but a dream. Her pale skin was framed by long red curls that she tried to tame with a ribbon. Some treasonous strands escaped and she constantly fought to control them.

She was a wisp of a thing, not very tall or sturdy looking at all. The girdle she wore about her waist held nothing but a couple of metal spoons, something she must always want at the ready. There were ties where other things could hang. He guessed a pouch for coins and maybe a knife.

He'd never seen anyone save grandmothers don girdles and thought them as old-fashioned, but the effect on Edana was pleasing. It cinched her tunic in at the waist, revealing how slight she truly was. The cloth ended mid-calf, bringing his eye to her slender ankle. It struck him as odd that he deemed it pretty. He'd never thought a woman's ankles appealing before, but hers were so slim that his eyes were drawn to them. His focus was then pulled upward and he found himself staring at the brown woollen garment as it traced the arc of her hip. As he watched, she bent to take something out of the low cupboard. The wool hugged every curve of her bottom as she moved.

Thus far, other than her face, Mylward only had the chance to carefully study her from behind and he liked what he saw.

He was sure he couldn't be alone in his opinion. Even young Swayn wasn't immune to Edana's allure and his father, the reeve, surely saw it as well, if he'd thought Mylward might be swayed by her appeal. She was obviously in good health. She seemed to own this house. It was well looked after and large for one person. So why, he wondered, was she not already wed or at least spoken for?

While he'd been lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that she'd moved back to the hearth and was pouring water from the kettle into a mug.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"Why?"

He watched as her right eyebrow inched upward.

"Just curious," he said offhandedly. He tried to accompany his words with a shrug, but the action pulled at his chest wound. He couldn't swallow his pained cry. Setting the mug down on the mantle, Edana hurried over to him.

Picking up his hand, she began to stroke it. "You need to take more care. Your injury is fresh."

"You put me at so much ease, I forgot," he tried to joke.

"I should be asking how old you are," she said with a huff. "You behave like you're ages with Swayn."

Mylward said nothing as Edana set his hand down and began to fuss with his cushions and blankets. Perhaps that was the answer, he thought; no sense of humour, although he found her staunchness intriguing in itself.

"Let me put some honey in this brew. It will help with your pain," she told him as she straightened up.

He watched as she put a generous dollop of honey into the steaming cup and then stirred it carefully. After she passed the mug to him, he lifted it to his nose to take a tentative sniff.

"Doesn't smell as good as your ale," he commented, half hoping it would irk her. He liked her when she was fired up.

"Be mindful when you drink it. It's hot."

If she was vexed, it didn't show in her tone or manner. Blowing across the surface of the brew, he grinned slyly.

"A good portion of ale has been known to help with pain."

"And will thin your blood," she said evenly, either missing or ignoring his further attempt at levity. "Let me know when you're done," she said as she turned away.

Since the brew was too hot to drink, Mylward watched as Edana worked at the large table. It was a sturdy oaken piece and far larger than what she needed for herself. It looked well worn, making him realize it had been passed down to her. He was still pondering her circumstances when the hound lifted his head and barked once. It was the first sound he'd heard the beast utter.

At the disturbance, Edana stopped what she was doing and went to the door where she was joined by the hound.

"Good lad, Wulf." She gave his head a pat. "Welcome, Darelle. What brings you this way? I trust all is well."

Mylward heard a woman's voice answering, but couldn't make out what she said. Wulf no longer seemed interested in the proceedings and sauntered back to his spot by the fire.

"By the gods, that man should not be in the company of a sharp knife. It was but –" Darelle paused as she stepped inside and saw Mylward. "This must be Dalton. Edmund told me what happened. Though you might think me mad to say it, fortune smiled on you, son. Without Edana's skills you would surely be with your ancestors."

Darelle was taller than Edana, and broader through the shoulders, cheeks and forehead. Her brown eyes were widely spaced. Her proportionately large mouth gave her the appearance of many women he'd met, largely plain but not unattractive. He knew they type. She wasn't afraid of work and had seen her share of it. Her yellow tunic fell straight from her shoulders, in the style Mylward was accustomed to. A white wimple concealed her hair. So it wasn't that women in the north adorned themselves differently, it appeared that Edana chose to do as she willed.

"I don't doubt it," Mylward agreed, allowing his gaze to settle on his fair rescuer.

After clearing her throat, Edana said, "Let me get the salve," and moved quickly to the back wall.

"Has the news of your calamity been delivered to your family; your wife?" Darelle asked as though concerned that his relatives might not know of his plight.

Mylward shook his head, "I'm not married." He puzzled at the topic of matrimony being discussed again, but then he recalled that his mother and aunts always wanted to talk about this girl or that girl that he might consider for betrothal. Seemingly it was a subject many women in Anglia liked to converse on. The appeal was lost on him. "And I think my Uncle uh –"

"Yes, Edmund has sent word," Edana said as she returned with a small clay pot. "Here is the salve. And be sure Wyne comes here himself if the cut begins to fester."

Once Darelle took the salve, Edana put a hand on her elbow and steered her towards the door. "I wish I had the time to share a cup of mead and hear the news, but I'm up to my elbows what with my patient and young Swayn underfoot."

"Of course," Darelle murmured. "I'm happy to find you better, Dalton. Edmund said you were in dire straits."

"I'm on my way back to good health. I would be in your debt if you could pass that news to him, Darelle," Mylward said, lowering his head deferentially.

The woman's smile lit up her careworn face. "Oh, I will." Then turning to Edana, she pulled a bag out of the sack she had slung over her shoulder. "Will this barley be enough?"

"It's fine," Edana said with a tight smile. "Safe journey."

Edana stayed in the doorway a few moments after Darelle's departure and then stepped back inside with a shake of her head. "I'm sure I could strip old Wyne down to his skin and find nary a cut on him."

"What?" Mylward furrowed his brow.

"She didn't come here for salve. She was here for gossip. Now she can scurry back to Keswick, happy in the knowledge that she was the first to lay eyes on you save Edmund and Swayn," Edana said with a shake of her head.

"Ah, I know the type, but it is surely a harmless type," Mylward reminded her.

"Harmless only if her tongue wagging passes on the truth. Darelle is more concerned with the interest her tale will generate. The veracity of the story doesn't worry her. I'm sure everyone in Keswick will know that Swayn was nowhere to be seen while she was here," Edana said bitterly.

"But surely the fact that I'm bedridden will keep your virtue intact!" Mylward's voice rose in alarm.

"The rumor-mongers will be more interested in the fact that we are both unmarried. Edmund and I knew they would be. That's why Swayn came to stay. I pay little notice to what is said, but the pettiness is still irksome," she said with a sigh.

After dropping the bag of barley onto the table, she picked up the pestle she'd been grinding with.

"You didn't answer the question I asked earlier," he reminded her, wanting to soothe her mood.

"No, I didn't," she answered without turning around.

As he considered why she might not want to tell him, he took a small sip from the mug. Even with the honey it was bitter. Suddenly the back of his tongue felt dry, causing him to shudder at the sensation. He couldn't stop himself from uttering a noise of disgust.

"If it's cool enough, just drink it down. Sipping will only serve to make it worse."

Maybe she has eyes in the back of her head, he thought ruefully, reconsidering the reason she had yet to marry.

"I'm three and twenty," he offered, hoping his frankness might result in hers.

But she said nothing as she carried a bowl to the hearth and dumped its contents into the pot that was already simmering there. Perhaps no man wants her for a wife because she's too secretive, he smiled to himself as he took another sip of the brew. It still tasted foul, but he quelled his reaction since he hadn't done as she'd said and he didn't want to see her smugness.

"Why won't you tell me how old you are?" he asked.

She stirred the contents of the pot freeing a delicious scent that set his stomach to rumbling. His mouth watered despite his fetid cup.

"Why won't you still your tongue and finish your cup?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

"That smells good." He grinned at her before taking a large quaff. "Is your stew as good as your ale?"

"There's one way to find out." She nodded toward his hands.

"All right. I'm drinking. I'm drinking."

In no time he'd finished the brew and she handed him a bowl of stew. With the spoon she gave him, he dug in heartily. The food was hot and a little thin for his liking, but he didn't care, his stomach was demanding food. His eyes widened at the taste. It was better than his mother's and her stew was renowned in their shire.

"Sup slowly," she cautioned him. "You haven't had food in your belly for days."

"S'good," he told her through a mouthful of mutton.

"Chew it well." She stood with her back to him again. "Don't make your gut do the work. And I know how you like to move that mouth."

He felt himself smiling again as he complied. It was possible she had no man because she was too bossy. He pondered as he watched her mixing something else at the table. The reasons he'd come up with wouldn't stop him from pursuing Edana. It made her more interesting; more of a challenge. His experience taught him that girls were like locks and each one needed a different key. As he took another spoonful of stew he watched her, wondering which key would open her up. Judging by how tight-lipped she was, he figured it would take some time to find out.

The next thing he knew, Mylward was blinking sleepily at the ceiling. He was on his back; his bowl of stew gone. Turning his head, he saw Edana and Swayn at the table eating. He needed the feltun again.

"That brew must've knocked me out. Did I slumber long?" he asked; his voice rough with sleep.

"All afternoon, Dalton!" Swayn said accusingly. "Edana made me tiptoe around so I wouldn't awaken you."

"Dalton is not here to amuse you, Swayn," Edana chided. "He needs his rest."

"Presently I need the feltun," Mylward said with a grimace.

"Still the pot, I fear, Dalton," Edana said as she stood up. "But after I get you sitting up, Swayn can help you."

"But I have to –" Mylward began to protest.

Edana didn't let him finish. "Maybe tomorrow Swayn and I can help you out to the feltun, but for today, it's the pot."

He could tell by her tone that she would not back down, and he was at her mercy. Without help, he wouldn't be able to get off the pallet, let alone make his own way outside. This hadn't been part of his plan for lowering her defences. After finishing with the pot, Mylward discovered that his humiliation was not complete.

"Before you have anything more to eat, I need to wash you." Edana smiled at him once he was settled under the blankets again.

"I've done naught but lay here for days. How much dirt could have found me?" He hoped to put her off.

"It's part of the healing. Your body is mending itself. To accomplish that it casts out poisons and black humuor. If they aren't washed away, you will grow weak instead of strong." She explained more patiently than he'd expected.

Mylward was surprised when Swayn jumped up from the table and crossed quickly to his side. "Dalton, you must do as Edana says. She is a powerful healer. People journey for days for her cures and everyone here abouts knows what happens when you ignore her words." The boy sounded genuinely distressed.

"All right, cousin, don't be afeared. I was jesting." Mylward tried to reassure the lad, not wanting to admit his own trepidation. He found himself strongly drawn to Edana, and feared what would happen when her hands caressed his nakedness. He could only pray that the ravages his body had endured would prevent any reaction.

Swayn stayed close while Edana quickly washed Mylward with sweet-smelling water. He was able to distract himself by telling the boy about the imaginary farm he'd grown up on. When she was finished, with Swayn's help she repositioned Mylward's tunic and then dabbed oils on his temples, wrists and feet.

"Is there some reason you want me fragrant?" He grinned up at her.

Edana sighed as she gathered her vials. "You ask many questions. It's very tiresome."

"And you don't answer enough," he retorted. "Why are you so secretive?"

"Are you planning to give up fi-farming?" She caught herself. "Are you going to study the healing ways?"

"No, I was simply curious." He smoothed the blankets that covered him to show his disinterest.

"I'm far too busy to suffer your curiosity," she said with an exasperated sigh and turned away from him.

Her rebuff amused him. Smiling to himself, he watched as she bustled around gathering up the rags, bowl and oil she'd been using.

"Swayn, make yourself useful and put some pillows behind Dalton." She stood with full hands glaring at the boy.

It seemed to Mylward that she was always working at something, though he could never make out what it might be. As Swayn helped him to a half-sitting position, Mylward watched Edana as she seemed to float around the room. The boy you could hear clumping about everywhere in the house, but Edana's unshod feet didn't make any noise. She walked as anyone did. He saw her feet touch the floor, yet she made not a sound. As he studied her he noticed that not only were her feet and ankles delicate, they were clean – incredibly so. He'd never seen so much as a sandal on her and still her feet were pristine. How often must she wash them? Judging by how thoroughly she'd bathed him, her cleanliness shouldn't have been a surprise. His eyes were still on her when she turned toward him.

"Are you hungry, Dalton? How is your pain?"

"I'm not so famished that I couldn't wait if you have things to attend to," he said, hoping to prickle her.

"And your pain?" She sounded annoyed that she had to ask him twice.

"It isn't worthy of mention." As he spoke Swayn jostled Mylward in the effort of sitting the injured man up, making him wince and draw his breath in sharply.

"Swayn!" Edana stood with her back straight and hands firmly on her hips. "Must you be so rough? My lamb has become a donkey. You are supposed to be helping me." Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks grew red. Mylward was sure she would breathe fire any moment. "I don't need you reopening Dalton's wounds. I have much to do as it is. I'm not in need of more industry and Dalton is certainly not in need of your abuse." With that she turned and stalked toward the cupboard at the far end of the room.

As much as Mylward enjoyed stirring Edana up, he hadn't expected this level of wrath from her and was loathe to see it again. Young Swayn stood with mouth agape and face afire.

"Sorry, Dalton," he muttered forlornly.

"It wasn't so bad, cousin." Mylward lied, not wanting to further grieve the boy. "And a few days hence I should be able to move on my own."

"And then you can roam the wood with me," Swayn said excitedly. Mylward marvelled at how easily the boy recovered from Edana's scolding. "There is a cave –"

Edana cut him short as she returned to the hearth with a cup in hand. "Swayn, Dalton may be able to sit on his own soon and get to the feltun with our help, but he won't be fit to ramble with you until at least two weeks have gone."

When her back was to them, Mylward rolled his eyes at Swayn, waved Edana off and gave the boy a wink. Swayn guffawed in response.

Edana looked at them over her shoulder. Mylward sat propped up on his pillows returning her gaze placidly, but Swayn had a hand clapped over his mouth as he sniggered. After narrowing her eyes at them dubiously, she turned her head back to the fire.

Mylward put a finger to his own lips to warn Swayn not to laugh. The lad struggled to swallow a snort, but Edana kept her eyes on her task.

"So tell me about your cave, cousin." Mylward nodded at Swayn, hoping to keep the boy from further rebuke.

Leaning into his pillows, he listened as the boy wove a tale of a haunted cave filled with the bones of dragons and the ghosts of Picts. Mylward smiled as he remembered his own days of fighting off monsters in a grove near the mill with a sturdy branch acting as his sword.

The memory of his youthful duels called other battles to his mind. None of the brothers-in-arms had been prepared for what was to befall them. He'd expected the ringing clash of weapons and the jarring rattle of steel upon steel. That was how he envisioned war. Never would he have imagined the spongy feel when his blade sank into an enemy. Nor did he consider the smell. He learned dead men didn't have to rot to stink. By some miracle they all survived Durham and they barely escaped York with their lives. Just as he was wishing they'd been as lucky with William's men on the road, Edana appeared in front of him with a cup.

"Is something troubling you?" she asked as she offered him the brew.

"Thinking of my family," he said, not wanting her to know the true source of his misery. He'd left his comfortable life, full of vigor, anxious to thwart the enemy of his people, but ended up failing at every turn. Lifting the cup to his nose, he recognized it as the same potion she'd given him earlier.

"I see," she said quietly and then turned her gaze on the boy. "Swayn, could you please take Wulf to the patch behind the chicken hutch? I saw tracks this morning that may be a fox. Let him meander back there for a while and see if he can nose out a burrow, will you? You should have at least an hour of light."

Mylward was awed by the change in her manner; she spoke so gently to the lad.

"I would fain be given such a chore, Edana," the boy cried gleefully as he popped up from his seat. "Let's go, Wulf," he said and patted his thigh.

From his place by the fire, the hound lifted his head to look at his mistress. She gave him an almost indiscernible nod. The animal rose and ambled to the door.

"You may have some plum cake with spiced honey when you return," Edana called after Swayn who was already halfway down the stairs.

The promise of a sweet drew a whoop from the boy, causing the hound to turn and look at Edana again, as if asking if he really must go. After giving him another nod, Wulf followed the boy outside at a sluggish pace.

"Plum cake with honey sounds pleasing." Mylward smiled at her once they were alone.

Pulling the hassock closer to the bed, Edana sat facing her patient. "But too rich for your blood right now, I'm afraid," she informed him apologetically. "When you finish that cup I'll give you more stew, but I'll still have to thin it out. Perhaps in another day your humours will be in sufficient balance to allow you heartier fare."

"I wondered after your watery food," he said with a grin. "I thought with added mouths to feed you were trying to eke out your larder." He gave her a wink. "And what do you know of my humour?" He looked at her over his raised mug.

"There's food enough. It's you I'm trying to eke out," she said with a small smile.

As he was taking a sip of the brew, he noticed that the blue of her eyes seemed brighter.

"And regarding your humours, I can judge them by your pallor and especially your eyes. The vitreous humour says much about one's vitality. Thinking of becoming a healer again?" she teased.

"I don't think it would suit." He gave her a sly smile. "And I heard you catch yourself this morning. I suspect Swayn would be in my thrall should I start to speak of fighting."

"I'm sure he would. I sent him out with good reason." She changed the subject abruptly. "Something is bothering you and it's not your family, my food or the balance of your humours."

"Are you my confessor as well as my healer?" he asked, wanting to deflect her question.

"The body heals with more ease when the spirit is strong," she replied, looking into his eyes.

In that moment he felt like she was seeing deep within his being. Not wanting Edana to know his disquiet, Mylward looked down at his cup quickly.

"Do you grieve for your fallen companions?" A lock of hair had escaped its braid and she leaned forward to push it out of his eyes. Then dropping her hand to his cup, she nudged it, reminding him to drink.

He said nothing, but took a long draught of the bitter concoction as she bade. When he lowered the drink, he found her eyes scrutinizing his face. The room was shadowy as it was only lit by fire and it being evening, the door and small windows did not add much brightness. Still it seemed to him that her eyes were shining as if with a light of their own. Her skin, while charmingly freckled, was clear and glowing. Her cheeks held a faint blush and her succulent lips glistened after her pink tongue darted out to moisten them.

His eyes followed the curve of her neck down to the collar of her tunic. Below that came the swell of her breasts against the woollen fabric. He felt his pintel stir as he feared it would when she was bathing him. It seemed some parts of him were recovering faster than others.

Not wanting to be caught staring, he raised his eyes to her face again. It was then he noticed that her lips were moving. Blinking, he lifted the cup to drink while he tried to figure out what she'd been saying.

"- in high favour. You should look for a message in it."

"Message?"

"Your life was spared for a reason. Yes, grieve for your friends, but do not discard this opportunity you've been given. How many people are afforded a second chance? Providence often visits in the guise of misfortune."

Mylward was amazed by the passion in her voice. Her ardour served to increase her beauty in his eyes. "Do you think there is something I'm meant to do?"

"I think you'll find the answer to that question within yourself."

End chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter five

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Mylward POV

Notes: A special thanks to Mimic for the blood, sweat and tears she put into this chapter. You make me a better writer, Mims! Thanks also to Dan, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

When Mylward woke the following morning sunlight streamed in through the open door. Birds sang outside and a breeze rustled the late summer leaves. He would've liked nothing better than to lie in bed and ponder what Edana had said about why his life had been spared, but he had more pressing concerns. He hoped Edana would finally let him address those concerns on his own.

He seemed to be alone in the house save the ever-present hound, who ambled over to the pallet when Mylward stirred.

"Fair morning, Wulf," he greeted the animal, who wagged its tail in response. "What unimaginative creature named you?"

"I was but a girl."

Mylward started at the sound of Edana's voice.

"And tis true. I was often called unimaginative and brooding."

Turning his head, he saw her descending the last stair.

"I thought I was alone."

"I moved my bed clothes upstairs. I think you'll no longer need constant vigilance. You had a restful slumber. Do you feel restored? You look more robust."

As she questioned him, Edana moved quickly to Mylward's side. He felt a fondness for her that had been lacking the day before. It was true that he hadn't been blind to her fair countenance and womanly curves, but this day it was her bustling manner that swayed him. Her cool hand went to his forehead. Then moving it lower, she pulled his bottom lid away from his eye.

"Ah," she said with a smile. "The inside of your lid isn't full red, but it's better."

He regarded her quizzically. "And this brightens your mood?"

"Only yesterday you were yet wan. Your blood is stronger. You must feel it." While she spoke she moved the linen from his wound and prodded about its edges.

"And this looks much improved, as well," she said happily.

He grimaced. "Aye, it doesn't pain me as much when you poke at it."

She smiled. "That is good news to my ears."

"But to the most pressing question; will I be allowed out of my bed this morn?" he asked cautiously.

"I'll leave you try, but if your pain proves too much, it'll be the pot for you still."

To his relief, with Edana's help, Mylward was able to sit up. Then she moved his legs as he turned his body. While neither of these actions caused him suffering, his breath was heavy in his chest and he could feel sweat beading upon his brow. He was shocked at how such little movement had tired him. Edana bade him wait until his breathing had calmed and he was happy to do it.

"I know you long to be hale, but you must remember how fortuitous the placement of your wound was," she said softly. "It was as if Brigid herself had guided the blade past everything in your breast. A slip in one direction pierces your heart; the other direction finds your lung. Had the blade been aimed lower it would've hit your gut. Any of these could've meant your end." She brushed a damp lock of hair off his forehead.

"Why couldn't Brigid have made the sword miss me altogether?" he asked ruefully, not feeling overly fortunate.

"Or kept you home in your fader's mill, for that matter," she countered with a crispness in her voice that pleased him.

"Dalton!" Swayn shouted from the door. "How are you cousin?"

"If you can get me to the feltun I'll be better," Mylward said wryly.

Availing themselves of the rear door, the threesome moved slowly but surely outside. A trip that he wouldn't have noticed in the past felt like it took a quarter of an hour, or perhaps it only seemed that way because of how badly he needed the feltun. He silently thanked God that Edana didn't insist on coming inside with him, though she did inquire about how he was faring several times.

By the return journey, Mylward felt his limbs were a part of him again. He thought he might have been able to take a few steps on his own, but he said nothing, knowing without asking what Edana's response would be. Once inside again he was glad he'd kept mum. His legs became wobbly as they neared his pallet, forcing Swayn and Edana to bear his entire weight as they lowered him.

Edana fussed, adjusting his blankets and pillows. Then she insisted on inspecting his chest in case the activity had reopened his wound. Satisfied that he wasn't damaged further, she went to work at the hearth. As Mylward watched her he felt a strange calm fill his body, almost like seeing her cook was in itself healing him. He was certain he could gaze at her forever but after she'd filled his belly with porridge, his eyes grew heavy and he slept once more.

As the days passed, Mylward was able to do more. Ten days after he first woke, he could move about on his own, eat at the table with Edana and Swayn. He could even climb the stairs to the second floor where his new lodgings were; no longer left to bed down by the hearth with Wulf.

Until he made his first attempt at the stairs he thought Edana was putting too many constraints on him. But the climbing made his heart pound and he wheezed like an old man with a feeble chest. He had to stop halfway to gather his wind. After that he quarreled with her less, at least about the limits she placed on him.

Edana assured him that once his blood humour returned to full vigor, he would feel more himself. Mylward didn't understand how his blood humour was supposed to change when Edana no longer prepared any concoctions for him. She insisted that rest, good food and fresh air would bring his blood back into balance with the rest of his humours. He failed to see how any of those things could heal him, but every other time he argued about his health, she'd been proven right, so he kept his mouth closed.

He was grateful that once he was able to move using his own might, Edana no longer insisted on bathing him. His blood humour may have been low, but it still managed to boil whenever she touched him.

Back home he'd never had any problem getting attention from girls. He'd managed to get under his share of skirts and luckily marriage had never been demanded of him

His mother had cautioned him about the camp followers and he was shocked at the sight of them following the men to battle. Having never seen women that rough in all his days, he'd been certain he'd never dip anything into those waters. Months away from home and too much ale changed his mind. He shuddered at the memory of the slatternly women he'd lain with. Looking back they seemed even more sordid when compared to Edana's innate decency and beauty.

Money wasn't an issue for Mylward or his fallen companions. Their families had provided them with far more than they needed to outfit themselves. They grew leery about carrying such a large sum in case it might be looted while they fought or robbed while they slept. That worry increased after one of the camp followers commented on the depth of their purses.

Before they reached Durham, they stopped and stashed a leather bag that held most of their stake. To Mylward, it felt like a lifetime ago that he and Alfred dug a hole at the base of a crooked Yew, filled it with a sack of coins and covered it with a stone. How ignorant they'd been; worrying so much about silver when something far more valuable was at stake.

Out of all of his deeds, scurrilous, warlike or foolish, he was most ashamed of the camp women and prayed Edana might never find out about them. She wasn't as susceptible to his charms as the girls at home. The most he got from her was a slight smile at some of his jests. He was sure, though, that he'd seen her regarding him with a look in her eyes that he'd seen before in the eyes of girls who'd taken a liking to him.

Mylward marvelled at the number of people who came to see Edana. He was convinced that half of them were truly there to lay eyes on him. One night he was awakened by a commotion when a young husband arrived, bellowing for a midwife. Even though he was only at the house for five minutes, Edana had the man completely calm before they left. She was gone all of the next day.

With the multitude of visitors, being called away, and the ever-present Swayn, Mylward got almost no time alone with his captivating healer. Swayn performed his chaperoning duty admirably, although he likely remained oblivious to his purpose in the house. It was as though Edmund had known that Mylward would be drawn to her.

The odd moment they were left to themselves , Mylward was sure he could sense something from Edana, as if she might be drawn to him as well. But any time he touched her hand or leaned closer to her, she pulled away.

One grey forenoon, while Edana sewed and Swayn grudgingly sorted through some dried herbs for her, Mylward took up the whet stone and began to sharpen the knives. Not being a taxing chore, yet one that necessitated skill, it made him feel like he was contributing to the household.

When he glanced from the blade he was honing through the veil of his loosened hair, he saw a very domestic scene. Only the previous year, the thought of domesticity had repelled him. The only thing about marriage that appealed to him was a constant bed mate. And while he would certainly jump at the chance of having Edana in his bed regularly, this was the first time he'd ever wanted anything more than that from a woman. Was this what his mother meant when she said he'd know when he'd met the right girl?

As Mylward pondered his change of heart, Wulf stood up and began to bark. That meant another visitor. After setting aside her sewing, Edana went to the door. Pausing briefly while she looked outside, her body stiffened. Mylward had never seen that reaction from her, no matter who visited. Her behaviour made him very curious.

Her shoulders sagged when she turned from the door and she sighed heavily. "Swayn be a good lad and fetch a fresh cask of ale. The priest is fond of it."

"Why is the priest here?" Mylward asked, setting down his stone.

"Likely in an attempt to convert me. I think he's made it his personal mission," she explained dryly.

He had to smile. "And he's acquainted with you? He knows your stubbornness?"

She lowered her voice to say, "If not swaying from my beliefs makes me stubborn, then so be it. But unlike him, I don't try to feed my beliefs to those who are already full of their own. But be careful of what you say, this is the priest who buried your friends. He doesn't know there should have been a sixth." She turned and after a few moments said with full voice, "Father Augustine."

"Augustine," Mylward said under his breath. Every second priest he'd met in his travels was called Augustine. Men of the cloth may have been rich in piety, but they sorely lacked in originality. He prayed this one was truly only here seeking to increase his flock.

Swayn returned with the cask just as Mylward heard the priest reach the top stair.

Edana was right on both counts. Father Augustine did try to convert her and he did love his ale. He also stayed long enough to ensure Edana invited him to join them for the midday meal.

"Will you just come to mass once, child? You may be surprised. Many have been overcome by the spirit once inside the house of God," Augustine entreated as he sipped his post-repast ale.

"I've been in a church before, Father, many times. And not once did a spirit overtake me," she told him patiently. "Mostly I'm bewildered why it eats at you so that we differ in our views. I'm happy to let you believe in your God."

"Edana, child, it's my responsibility to save your soul." The priest's condescension was thinly veiled.

Swayn sat at the table taking in the exchange with wide eyes. It was obvious to Mylward that he'd never seen anyone challenge a priest before. Edana rose from the table and collected the bowls.

"And your God gave you that responsibility?" she asked as she set the dishes in the wash basin.

Her back was to them, but Mylward could imagine her rolling her eyes.

"Yes, child."

"Then tell him I absolve you."

Augustine looked at Mylward, shook his head and sighed. "And what about you, young Dalton? Do you share Edana's views?"

"I was raised in the church," Mylward answered, choosing to ignore that the priest called him young. By his reckoning Augustine might be his elder by two or three years at most.

"And when was your last confession?"

Mylward always wondered why priests were so anxious to hear everyone's sins. Were they merely interested in cleansing souls or did they take pleasure in hearing about certain lapses? There was one priest in particular who always wanted more details than the others. The memory of the man made him cringe.

"I took confession before I left on my journey." Mylward chose not explain to the priest that he'd left home months previous, not weeks.

"I can hear your confession still. The body heals better when the mind is at ease," Augustine said. "Is this not true, Edana?"

"It is," she agreed.

Mylward was sure he saw a look of distaste flit across her face. For someone who was always eager to foist her opinions on him, at first he was puzzled by her reluctance to do the same with her current guest. Then he realized she was a woman who picked her battles.

"I'm thankful for your benevolent offer, Father Augustine, but I have nothing to confess. Unless being attacked by a wayward tree limb and losing one's horse have become mortal sins while I've been abed."

"No, of course not," Augustine murmured. "But if you are ever in need, Edana and Swayn know where I can be found. And Swayn, my lad, have you been confirmed?"

Bobbing his head, the boy said, "Yes, father."

"And you are taking your vows seriously? You attend mass faithfully? When was your last confession?"

It was then Mylward saw the priest work a miracle, for the boy was rendered dumb, though his ears turned bright red.

"You will come upstairs with me and I'll take your confession," the priest said, pushing back from the table.

As he did, Mylward saw his eyes light on the tunic Edana had set on the sideboard.

"That is the pattern of Edmund's family, if I'm not mistaken," Augustine commented, looking at Edana.

"It is," Mylward answered. "The tunic I wore when I was injured was bloodied and torn. My horse ran off with the rest. I doubt, however, that they'll fit him."

Swayn chortled at Mylward's jest. Edana merely rolled her eyes. The priest, though, remained unmoved.

"And Edana not only stitched you new garments, but saw to it that they bore your family's mark?" Augustine's tone belied his incredulity.

"Well, the mark of my mother's family," Mylward replied. "By rights it should have been my father's but I wasn't well enough to draw it when needed, not that I could've at the best of times. Edmund thought my mother's pattern would suffice. And as you well know, Father, there are many dangers awaiting travellers on the road in these days. Had I ventured forth with a bare collar, I might be thought an outlaw."

It wasn't long after William landed on Anglia's shores that the ranks of outlaws swelled. There had always been those who opted to live outside the law rather than face their punishment, but Norman laws were strict. Many an Angle thought the laws were enforced solely to gain lands and chattel. While still being stripped of their possessions, a great number chose to live in hiding rather than face Norman gaols and gaolers.

"Then it is your good fortune that God has not only blessed you with Edana's healing hands, but also with those of a fine seamstress," the priest said with a hint of crispness in his voice. "Come, Swayn. Let us up and hear your sins."

Mylward saw Edana's head turn to watch the pair disappear up the stairs. When the sound of their footfalls was above them, she faced him again, but he spoke before she had a chance.

"Do you think he suspects anything?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. That is his usual manner so there is likely no cause for concern. But you and I have never spoken of religion. Does it offend you that I don't share your beliefs?" she murmured.

"That would be impossible, Edana," he responded softly but with a wry smile. "Because I don't know what I believe."

Wrinkles lined her brow as she took a step closer to him.

"But you told the priest you were raised in the church," she said. "I don't understand."

He nodded. "My family attended mass every Sunday and every feast day. They paid their tithes and sent me to the abbey to be schooled when I could be spared from the mill, which wasn't often. As an only son my fate was known to me early on. I was expected to take over my fader's mill. When I was ten Fader decided I had my head in the books long enough. It was but four winters, but he was right. I'd learned plenty and more than a lot of my friends had. My sister's fate was different. She is a novice at the convent of St Osgyth in Mercia. I'm sure she'll be abbess one day."

"Do you doubt your God? Is that why you aren't certain of your beliefs?" Edana sounded puzzled.

Mylward shook his head. "Not exactly. While my parents did send my sister and me to be educated by the church they also still plant and harvest by the moon. We hold fertility rituals every Beltane and consult our ancestors at Samhaim. At Midwinter we decorate the house with fir boughs and holly and at Midsummer we light bonfires."

Her smile lit up her face. "It sounds like you follow the old ways."

"My family is content to have a foot in both worlds. That's why I don't know what to believe. The brothers are very convincing, but what would happen to the corn if we dishonored the Sun God?"

"And what would happen to your soul if this new God was displeased?" Edana nodded.

"So you see my dilemma," Mylward said as he took up the last knife.

"But how will this new God feel about you lying to the priest?" Concern was evident even though her voice was pitched low. She reached for the tunic she'd set aside earlier, but her eyes never left his. "Have we traded one problem for another?"

"You don't believe in my God. Why does it worry you?"

She clutched the garment tightly. "But you do. My beliefs don't make Him more or less real. Your convictions are what matters. If you're convinced something bad will happen, it likely will."

Mylward had never met anyone who followed the old ways exclusively. From the stories he'd heard, he expected its practitioners to be simple and backward. Edana was the least backward person he'd ever met.

"Never fear, I can confess my sins on my deathbed and be forgiven, so lying to Augustine doesn't worry me. If I'd taken confession under a false name, that would be asking the priest to lie to God. And if I tell him the truth, I'll be put to death."

Mylward watched the color drain out of Edana's cheeks. She sat down heavily. "Edmund said the same. I don't understand how he can profess to be concerned for your soul in one breath and with his next condemn you with a whisper in the King's ear."

"Ah, but the Normans are huge benefactors of the church. Its fate is subject to the King's will. And he needs information. I would be the very thing that gives Augustine favor with William. And favor is their currency. The church earns it with information, the King doles it out by adding to their wealth. And those who gain wealth for the church gain advancement."

Edana's eyes widened as Mylward spoke. "You are saying he would barter your life to improve his position?"

"I learned more than Latin and geometry from the monks."

"It sounds like they rule by fear. Not just your life now, but beyond death, as well. And to ensure your life in the afterworld is safe, all you have to do is ask forgiveness before you die?" She cocked her head at him.

He merely shrugged in response.

"Then why does anyone bother to follow the church's rules if they will just be forgiven in the end?"

"Well, there are mortal sins and venial ones."

"So some sins can be forgiven and others can't?" Edana's confusion seemed to be growing.

"No all sins can be forgiven if you are truly penitent and you receive absolution from a priest before you die." Mylward thought he'd explained everything clearly, but Edana's forehead was still furrowed.

"You can't ask your God directly?"

"No."

"Why not? Surely he knows the truth of your heart."

Mylward gave her another smile. He'd never met anyone who knew so little about Christianity.

"The priest intercedes with God on your behalf. He must conduct the proper ritual to ensure your sins are forgiven. But what of your God? How will He feel about the falsehoods you've told?" Mylward bent to his blade once more.

"There are many gods and goddesses, each with different powers. But the Lady of the moon and the Lord of the sun, are all powerful and I may speak with them directly. My heart is also open to them. They know my intent. If my lies had been meant to harm, that injury would be visited on me threefold."

"You don't think lying causes injury?" Mylward lifted his head to look into her eyes.

"There are some who might not be happy that you are alive, but it does them no harm. As you pointed out, the truth would not be good for your health."

"Do you think William's ill deeds will be visited upon him threefold?" he asked as he cast his eyes along the newly sharpened blade.

"Aldefader always said a man dies how he lives."

"I've heard it said that he's a corpulent arse, so perhaps he'll choke on a leg of mutton," Mylward muttered as he set the last knife down.

"I think he meant that war-loving men were unlikely to die peacefully while they slumbered," she murmured, lowering her eyes to her needlework.

Mylward's gut wrenched at her words. He suddenly understood why she remained so distant. She thought he loved to fight and would die in battle. He opened his mouth to explain himself when he heard Swayn thunder down the stairs. The priest was not far behind.

"So Dalton of Mercia," Augustine said when he reached the bottom step. "What are your plans now that you are on the mend? Edmund said you might buy some land."

"That was the reason for my visit but I no longer have the time to look at what land is available. As it is, I'll be late returning home and I'm not sure when my gaoler will free me."

"You still wheeze like a blacksmith's bellows," Edana said with a shake of her head. "It will be a fortnight yet before you are ready for such a journey."

"But surely he is well enough to come into Keswick and stay with his family." He turned to Mylward." You need no longer be a burden on Edana."

The priest's words sounded compassionate and Mylward thought he understood their true meaning but another nagged at his brain. He couldn't help wondering if the priest had learned of the missing rebel corpse and tied it to the unexpected appearance of Edmund's nephew in Keswick. One look at Edana's lowered head told him she thought no such thing. In her mind this was strictly about propriety.

In that instant he knew the wretched priest was right. He'd already considered luring Edana into his bed, even with Swayn about. She deserved more from him than a besmirched name. Much to Mylward's chagrin he had to admit, if only to himself, the interfering Father was right; he no longer needed Edana's constant care. There was something far more important at stake.

Knowing this did little to raise his spirits. He'd just begun to feel close to his old self. He was truly at ease here and Augustine's prying would rob him of the first happiness he'd known for months. Yet again he would be thrust into unfamiliar surroundings. All he knew of Edmund was what he'd heard from Edana and Swayn.

"Huzzah!" Swayn crowed. "I'll fetch your things, Dalton and then we can ride back with Father Augustine. Mightn't we, Father?"

The priest nodded. "Of course. It would be too far for Dalton to walk. I have my donkey and cart."

Mylward bobbed his head in helpless agreement. There was no reason for him to linger under Edana's roof. When he glanced back in her direction, he found no sign of distress in her face. Was she veiling her reaction from the priest or had he been wrong to think she had feelings for him?

"Take care Dalton isn't jostled on the journey," Edana told the priest. "And," she turned to Mylward, "if you continue to eat heartily, rest and get fresh air, I trust your health will be vigorous enough to return to Mercia in a fortnight. Swayn, you make sure your father sends for me if Dalton grows weak or feverish."

"I will!" the lad shouted and dashed up the stairs.

Mylward only had moments to thank Edana for the care she'd given him while she stuffed his tunics, completed or not, into a sack with Swayn's things. Augustine gave every indication of rushing Mylward out the door until Edana called, "Father, wait."

Mylward looked back at his healer, praying she would insist that he must stay in her care.

"You must slow your pace. Dalton is still easily winded. He'll need your help to the road."

Mylward's heart fell.

As instructed the priest took his arm. Swayn attempted to take the other arm, but Mylward waved the lad off. Happy with his freedom the boy dashed ahead swinging the sack of clothes.

Looking over his shoulder, Mylward saw Edana watching their progress. He tried to decipher the look on her face. His chest now felt pain of a very different sort at the thought of being separated from her. If she felt the same ache, it wasn't apparent. He thought back to his mother's words about knowing love when he saw it. Of all of the uncertainties in his life, there was one thing he knew for certain.

His mother was right.

End chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter six

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Edana POV

Notes: Thanks also to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Edana felt dazed. When Augustine arrived, it never entered her mind that his departure would mean the loss of Mylward and Swayn as well. Once she could see them no more, she sat on the stairs and simply stared down the path.

The hollow feeling in her gut was unknown to her, as was the sharp pain in her heart. When her parents brought her to Aldefader she'd been hurt and angry. That left her with a tight feeling in her chest. She'd wanted to ball her hands into fists and she clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached for days.

She grieved at Aldefader's death, but her sadness had been tempered. He'd told her he was dying. Initially she didn't want to believe it, but the truth became apparent as he grew weaker. She learned to cherish every moment they'd had together. She missed him but his parting felt nothing like this ache in her breast or the sting in her eyes.

To her surprise, Edana felt a tear slide down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, as though she might make it disappear. She never cried. Never! Neither her parents' return to the Isle of Man without her nor Aldefader's passing left her feeling this abandoned. It couldn't possibly be loneliness she felt. She was used to being on her own and preferred it to the company of most people.

Deciding that her strange feelings must have been caused by the unexpectedness of the day's events, Edana stood up, straightened her tunic and went inside. She had plenty to keep her occupied.

The herbs Swayn had been sorting still lay scattered on the table. She gathered up the dead nettle. She'd been on her way to pick it when she encountered the disaster on the road, so she'd resorted to harvesting it during a waning moon. That would affect the herb's potency, but she wouldn't throw it away. A less potent supply was better than having none at all. At the next full moon she'd collect more.

To preserve the strength of the plants, nuts and seeds she harvested, special care had to be taken. Those that needed to be dried were hung from the rafters upstairs. Some stayed there after they'd dried out. Others were buried in linen in the undercroft. For a few it was vital that they be pickled and for some, storage in beeswax was necessary. Most of the herbs were stored in a hutch on the wall opposite the hearth in a drawer of their own. It had taken Edana years to memorize the intricacies of each herb, but now she walked to the dead nettle drawer without having to think about it.

As she stooped to reach for the handle her eyes fell upon the stone and knife Mylward had been using. She felt a catch in her throat and her eyes burned again. She straightened up in surprise.

Was this how it felt to be heartsick? Could she really feel this way about a man she'd just met; a man who'd been under her care? At first Mylward had been near death and Edana had thought of nothing but bringing him back from the brink, even when he woke her attention had been on his health. Slowly, however, things changed. As the days passed and he'd needed her help less, they interacted in a different way, a way Edana hadn't experienced before.

Aldefader had cautioned Edana about getting too attached to their patients. He focussed on their ailments but Edana talked to the ailing about their daily lives, habits and routines. She thought the little things might be just as important to their health as their symptoms. Her reaction to Mylward's abandoned project made her wonder if Aldefader had been right.

Right or wrong, there was nothing to be done about it. She could not go chasing after Mylward, though every bone in her body ached to. As far as the people of Keswick were concerned, Mylward was Dalton, Edmund's nephew. He'd come to Northumbria to find a place for himself. According to Edmund, his nephew had been late arriving. Edmund had found him on the Ambleside Road, in the Great How Wood, next to death and brought him straight to Edana. To the people hereabouts, Edana had simply healed Dalton after he fell from his horse. They knew nothing of the bond she felt existed between them.

She had no memory of the tie forming. Had it happened in the few moments they were alone, while she'd been whispering the details of the deception to him? Was the pull she felt nothing more than a shared secret? When she called Mylward to mind, it wasn't their ruse that overwhelmed her. She saw his saucy smile and rather sad hazel eyes. The memory of his soft hair made her fingers tingle. Edana could hear the bold retorts and hearty laugh as though he were beside her. No, this link was not formed through attachment to a patient or the confederacy of allies. It was considerably more.

To stop her mind from ceaselessly chasing her feelings round and round, she opted to keep herself busy. It was early for fall cleaning, but her chores had been largely neglected for the past fortnight. How did women with husbands and bairns do it?

On top of her regular work she had ale and mead to make for Osric's household. Before she could brew the mead she had to rob the hives she kept next to the plum thicket. That location accomplished two things; her trees were always bountiful and the honey bore a hint of the fruit. To keep herself occupied until she was ready for bed, she finished sorting the herbs, then cleaned the honey press and the collection cans. She made herself a small supper, but ended up giving most of it to Wulf. Crawling into bed, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, in spite of the warm evening. Hoping sleep would come quickly she squeezed her eyes closed, but that didn't stop her seeing Mylward's face in her mind's eye nor block the tears from spilling onto her pillow.

In the morning Edana found the hives brimming with golden sticky sweetness after the summer. Harvesting the honeycombs was slow work, best done in the cool of morning when the bees were yet groggy. Even then she had to move slowly so as not to agitate them. It took two mornings to remove the combs. Even with leaving more than the bees would need to over-winter, Edana collected so many combs, she'd have honey to trade at the market. Once the hive was robbed, she collected the honey by passing each waxy structure through a press. Then she washed the remnants with water to remove the traces of honey that clung to them. It was with this honey-water that she made the mead.

There was yet another gift bestowed by her bees; their wax. Edana not only used it to make her candles, finding tallow smoky and somewhat odoriferous in comparison, but also for soap, some of her medicine, the base of all of her salves and it could be used all on its own to prevent chilblains or, with some fennel added, a treatment for the same. All Edana did was give the bees some shelter, but they gave her so much in return.

One of the tricks to Edana's popular brews wasn't what went into them but rather what they went into. Preparing the mead pitchers and ale casks was as vital as the brewing itself. A speck of dirt in either would ruin her hard work. When it grew too warm to disturb the bees, she cleaned the pots and casks she'd need for brewing. It took a day to cook up the mead and pour it off. Once the pitchers were covered with linen, she set them on a shelf in the undercroft to ferment.

The next day was spent on ale. When it was barrelled, it too was stored in the undercroft where it would ferment for three days before it was ready to drink. Edana's rigorous cleaning meant her ale could last up to six weeks. Less careful brewers found their ale would spoil in less than two. With that finished the entire house needed a good scrub, but there was a task she loathed that had to be done first – cleaning the chimney.

It was the dirtiest chore she knew. It also meant climbing onto the roof. That part had been her job since she arrived in Keswick. Aldefader assured her it was a task for the nimble. She'd done it alone for five years and while she still might be agile, she knew it was far easier done with two.

It took three trips up the ladder to bring all she required; her longest rope, a specially selected branch and the weight which was attached to the end of the rope and then dropped into the chimney. Without a load on the end, there was a risk that the rope would get caught up inside the flue. When the weight stopped falling she climbed down to ensure it wasn't stuck. Seeing it on the floor of the hearth meant she could return to the roof and attach the branch to the middle of the rope. Once the branch was stuffed in as far as she could reach, she tied the loose end of the rope around the chimney. Then she was back down to pull the branch through. A certain amount of skill was required to pull the branch hard enough to loosen the soot, but not so hard that the entire room ended covered in grime.

Pulling it back the other way took less delicacy. If soot flew onto the roof, it didn't matter. Edana repeated the process until nothing more was removed from the chimney, ending by pulling the branch, rope and weight back to the roof. Her house was dirty enough without carrying them through it. She was left not only grime covered, but sweaty as well. Once the hearth was swept and cleaned Edana needed to be scrubbed too.

The following day she began the process of cleaning the house. It would take two days. Before anything else she had to take down all of the hanging herbs, wrap them in linen, and stash them in the undercroft until she was done. Then, starting on the top floor, she swept the ceiling, walls and floor of every room. When that was done she washed it all. The final stage was a lime wash to rid the house of any pests that might have taken up residence over the summer. By late afternoon of the second day, everything had dried, allowing Edana to rehang her herbs from the rafters.

Edana left the bedding for last as her mader taught her. She hated cleaning the bedclothes almost as much as sweeping the chimney. Not the linens so much as the coverlets and ticks.

Her first fall in Keswick, even as an eight year old, Edana had been as shocked by the condition of her grandfather's linens as she was by his tunics. Preparing the bedding for winter was a task she knew well, done every spring and fall. Mader had kept two sets of feather ticks for every bed. While feathers to fill both were far too expensive for her family, a spare shell wasn't. To save the feathers, the ticks had to be hung outside, still stuffed, over smoky fires of cedar and fleabane. If there was only one tick for each bed, once the feathers had been smoked, they had to be pulled out and kept from blowing away while the tick was laundered.

Her first winter with Aldefader was spent sewing spare ticks. It was a tedious task. Each tick consisted of two linen bags with flaps and ties at one end. The inner held the feathers. The flaps were tucked in to stop the feathers from flying out and then the tick was tied closed. Still, this system wasn't entirely successful at holding the feathers, so the first sack was stuffed inside a second, with the flaps at the opposite end. That way the feathers that did escape would be caught by the outside tick. It was a lot of work, but a spare set meant she had six months to do any patching that might be needed and less nights sleeping on the floor.

Fumigating the beds was a lot of work too but she couldn't risk her beds being bug-ridden. She'd never known hers to be infested, but was that because she deloused them twice per year? She didn't want to forego the process to find out. Once the ticks had hung for a day, she transferred the feathers to the spare ones, after which she ended up looking much like a goose herself. Then she added new feathers to make the ticks especially full.

Edana considered keeping geese for the feathers as well as the eggs and meat. She and Aldefader had talked about it often. But she got so many in trade for her skills that she decided not to. They were more work than her chickens, anyway.

Once the ticks were behind her, it was time to wash the bedding; all of it. But that would have to wait for morning. It was a day-long affair and she was dirty, hungry and tired. Taking care of her complaints in order, she collapsed into bed before the sun set and slept until the cock woke her.

In spite of keeping herself busy, her first thought the next morning was Mylward. Two weeks had passed since he left and her heart still ached with wanting to see him. She'd tried to think of a reason to go into town, but had come up with none. It was three days until market day. No one was ill or injured. It had been almost two weeks since she'd had a patient. Edana had never wished for someone to be ill before. Perhaps she had become too close to her patient, but it wasn't the false attachment Aldefader warned her about. This had to be love. The love she'd heard about in stories and songs. The love that made young girls blush and boys do foolish things. Now she understood. It wasn't something she expected to happen to her and she certainly didn't know it would hurt so much.

Still, there was nothing to be done. It would be unseemly for her to chase after him. Her mader had told both her and her sister not to pursue boys. Only certain kinds of girls did that.

"You must wait for the boy to show his fascination with you. Only then will it be right to let him know his interest is returned. And even when you do, it must not be plain. Boys like the hunt and not only for game. A girl who falls before the arrow is let loose won't hold a boy's interest for long."

Edana smiled. She could envision Mylward as one who would enjoy the hunt. In fact, looking back she was certain by the way he looked at her and touched her whenever he could that he'd begun his tracking of her before the priest had intervened. Until he was well healed he couldn't come back to see her. She knew Edmund planned to find work for him as soon as Mylward was able. At that time she hoped he would resume his hunt.

Until then all she could do was keep busy. And this day she would be plenty occupied with laundering. Edana started by building a large fire outside and hanging her largest cauldron over it. Many trips to the well were needed to fill it, but she was able to rest while the water heated. When it began to steam she added the bedding and her homemade beeswax and primrose soap.

By mid-morning, the bedclothes had been washed. Then it was time to rinse. The cauldron had to be filled and emptied several times until the water stayed clear. After everything was well wrung she began to hang them out to dry, taking advantage of the sun's bleaching power. She still had two coverlets and a tick to go when Wulf let out a bark to let her know someone was approaching. Her heart beat more quickly and her mood brightened. Was Mylward finally coming to see her?

Turning her head slightly, she listened for the footfalls. When she heard them her heart sank, but only momentarily. She didn't know Mylward's gait well enough to recognize, but she did know the stride nearing her house. It was her thane, Osric.

As she finished quickly with the bedding, she wondered if the disruptions of the past month had caused her to misjudge when she was due to take ale and mead to the great house. With the empty laundry basket under her arm, she hurried to meet her landlord.

His house was several miles from hers by road, but the two families always used a shortcut. Instead of the path leading north to the road, the shortcut followed the path south to the stream, over a small footbridge and then over a low hill.

Osric had already stepped into the clearing her house occupied by the time she rounded the corner of the house. Her thane was a tall man, as tall as Mylward, but much older. In fact he was likely as old as her parents; approaching forty. Unlike Edmund and her fader, Osric still kept his hair, though it was almost completely grey. He wore its length swept off his face and let it fall over his shoulders. Usually his brown eyes were gentle and caring, but Edana saw worry as she approached him. In his right hand he gripped a roll of parchment and to her shock, a large purse hung from his waist. She'd never known Osric to flaunt his wealth.

She lowered her head deferentially. "Milord."

The act not only showed respect but hid her alarm.

"Edana, good afternoon," he replied as though his mind was elsewhere.

Aldefader had taught her the proper manners to use with Osric and his family, but the thane usually shook his head at such practices. This day he made no mention.

"I have news. Let us go inside." He pointed up the stairs with his free hand.

There was a dullness in his voice that concerned Edana. What news would have this effect on him? She knew him to be a gentle man in both word and deed, but she had never witnessed a lack of life in his eyes. Around her he'd always been quick to smile and she'd not once seen him cross, although she knew it was in him. Osric had savagely beaten Hubert, one of his labourers, years ago.

Hubert had been hired to help with Osric's large herd of cattle and was given the responsibility for that year's calves. A month after Hubert took charge, Osric became concerned when the calves hadn't grown as they should. When he oversaw their care personally, they began to flourish once more, though they would never regain everything they'd lost.

The thane was at a loss. The animals had been given oats and hay twice a day to ensure their increase. How would his oversight have made a difference? When Osric voiced his confusion to another farmer he learned the truth.

Instead of feeding the calves twice a day, Hubert had kept the second allotment back and sold it to fill his own pockets. Several farmers in the area had bought from him, but only once. Hubert weaved a yarn about a surplus at the great house and Osric offering a low price. Hubert claimed every farmer he approached was the only one Osric thought deserved the favour and told them to keep hush so as not to offend anyone. Hubert's scheme worked and no suspicions were aroused.

Hubert made the mistake of thinking Osric too meek to punish him severely. Anyone else might have cut off the man's hands for the theft, but Osric took a strap to him, leaving him bloodied and bruised before sending him down the road.

The tale shook Edana to her core, but once she learned the full truth her feelings changed. If anyone had harmed her animals and stolen from her, she would've taken a stick to them. She understood there were times when even good men had to resort to violence. She counted Mylward among those good men.

Not being able to fathom a reason for Osric's mood, Edana quietly followed him up the stairs. He'd visited the house often, but lately not as much as when Aldefader was alive. These days he always brought Bronwyn with him. As they reached the door Edana asked after his good wife.

"I'm sorry that she could not accompany me. She sends her apologies, but she has much to do. Come, sit and I'll explain."

Osric pulled out a chair for Edana. Once she was seated, he took the chair opposite her, opting not to sit in Aldefader's place. He looked toward the large oaken chair briefly though, then back down at the parchment in his hands.

Even watching him closely, Edana could still not guess at the reason for his appearance at her home.

Lifting his head, Osric took a deep breath. "Did your grandfather ever tell you that he owned this land?"

She jerked back in surprise. "No, he said we were your tenants. And that our rent was the ale and mead."

In spite of his obvious troubles, Osric smiled. "I thought not. No, Edana, he was paid for the ale and mead."

"But-" she began, but the thane raised his hand.

"Let me explain. As you well know, your grandfather wasn't loose of tongue. So am I right to suppose that he also never told you that he saved Bronwyn's life when Theodoric was born? That bairn was breech but still in a rush to come into this world. The midwife tried to turn him, but there was no stopping the lad. He came out sideways. I'd been barred from the chamber, of course, but when I heard Bronwyn's scream, I barged in. At the sight of so much blood, I thought her dead for sure, but I ran for Winstan anyway. I knew he was my only hope."

It had been a long time since Edana had heard her grandfather's name and she smiled at hearing it.

"He stitched her up like she was cloth. I'd never seen anything like it. Her recovery was slow, but we had a nurse for Theodoric or that lad would've been lost. Winstan slept on the floor by her bed until he was sure she would live. Still, for almost two months after that he came to the house every day. When Bronwyn could sit up and hold the boy, he took me aside."

Pausing his story, Osric looked at his hands. Edana was surprised to see his cheeks grow pink.

"Normally I wouldn't speak of such things to a maiden, but with your work as a healer and midwife, I'm sure my words won't shock you."

"I fear there is little left in this world that would shock me, Milord," Edana said, hoping to put his mind at ease.

In spite of her assurance, Osric lowered his voice to say, "Winstan told me I was not to share her bed until Theodoric was one year old, because carrying another child too soon might mean her end."

"I had no idea," Edana said in wonderment. "And Bronwyn was able to give you more sons and daughters. It's almost unbelievable."

"We thought Theodoric would be our only bairn. I thanked God that he was a boy, to continue my line. When we discovered she was with child again the following year, we were overjoyed."

"Had you not given her womb time to heal itself, like Aldefader said, you likely wouldn't have had any more offspring."

"Tis true, but the part of the story that I wanted to tell you is that I couldn't think of anything as valuable as Bronwyn's life with which to compensate him."

"So you gave him this land." Edana nodded.

"Yes, but he never truly acknowledged his ownership. He wouldn't take the deed," Osric said, setting the parchment on the table. "He told me I should safeguard it. As for the money for the ale and mead, it was only a few pennies per year, but he wanted me to hold it. Every once in a great while he would come to me, almost ashamedly, and ask for a penny. Each time I assured him it was his money and he needn't give me an explanation, but I couldn't change his mind."

Edana smiled. "He was a little headstrong."

Osric laughed. "Yes, a little." Then he paused to take another deep breath. "Do you remember that I visited Winstan when he was failing? I asked him what I should do with all of his money. He said I should keep it to use as your dowry."

Reaching for his girdle, he untied the weighty purse, then set it aside the parchment on the table in front of Edana.

"No, Milord. Aldefader was right. You should hold onto these. As for the dowry, I don't know that I'll ever be in need of it." She pushed the goods back toward him all the while hoping she was wrong.

He smiled softly at her. "It's a wonder to me that you aren't yet wed, but a lass of your beauty won't be unclaimed for long."

Edana blushed at his kind words, but shook her head. "Then we'll wait until the time comes."

"That is why I'm here. I fear the time has come, but for reasons not as glorious as your wedding. I and many others thought I would go unchallenged here because of Malcolm's rule but the Normans are trying to push into Scotland. My land was offered up to keep them at bay."

Edana's heart fluttered. "But it's your land. How could this happen?"

"It was my land to use as long as Malcolm saw fit. He felt he had no choice –"

"No choice but to dispossess you! Surely he had other options."

"Yes, he could've gathered an army and fought William, but he didn't want Scotland to be soaked in Scot's blood. I am but one man, Little Fire. Surely this land isn't worth so many lives."

"No, of course. But," she picked up the deed, "wouldn't this go, as well?"

Osric shook his head. "No, I bought this land from the King. This parchment says the acreage is free land, not the King's. Before your grandfather died, I had a different parchment saying the land belonged to Winstan the Manx. Before he left this world, your grandfather bade me to deed the land over to you, so I did. It's signed by Malcolm." Osric gently eased the parchment from her hand and unrolled the document to show her.

The black markings on the paper meant nothing to Edana. For a girl to know her letters meant going to a nunnery and that was only open to the daughters of the wealthy. She was the daughter of a Manx farmer. They weren't poor, but a convent school was beyond their means.

"It says I own the land?" she asked in awe.

Pointing to a string of markings, Osric said, "Yes, right here."

"And am I called Edana the Manx?"

"No, women are named for their fathers and I didn't know your father's name. What is it?"

"Wilburh."

"So you would've been called Edana Nic Wilburh, Edana daughter of Wilburh. Your brothers, if you have any, would be called Mac Wilburh."

She cocked her head. "So how am I called?"

"Edana Nic Mona."

Edana laughed. "Daughter of the moon? And Malcolm agreed to that name?"

Osric smiled. "He did. He asked if the name was akin to Robin's son. I said it was."

Robinson was a name given to children born nine months after Beltane. Girls who went a-Maying often came back with child. Their fertility was thought to be a good omen for the crops and no Robin's son was ever looked down upon.

Edana half-smiled at the story, but her mind was elsewhere. "Milord, if your land can be bought back, then please take these coins and buy it. I want for naught."

"Your heart is good, my dear, but no amount of money can help. Yours is but a small corner of the holding being turned over to the Normans. Even if I had the means to buy it, money is not the object. This land will be given to someone who served William in the invasion, as a reward. Just as it was given to my ancestors for service to the King."

Edana squeezed the bag of coins tightly. "Is there nothing to be done?"

"Nothing. My family was only living on this land at the will of the King."

"But why your land?"

"That is the fate of those living on the borderlands. We did pledge fealty to Malcolm, but our loyalty doesn't go back generations. Our fealty changed depending on where the line was drawn. Malcolm isn't losing a steadfast champion. I would've made the same decision had it been put to me."

"But what are you to do? Where will you live? What of your cattle? This house is small, but you are welcome to live here."

Osric laughed. "No one else has shared your concern, and I'm grateful to have it, but we are leaving Northumbria. We're going to Wales to live with Bronwyn's family. William's forays into Wales haven't been successful, so we hope to be secure there. You should know from Bronwyn that the Welsh are a stubborn lot. Half of the cattle went to buy horses for the journey."

"What about Theodoric and his new wife, Alfwyn? Will they go as well?"

"Ah, but their marriage is not so new, Edana. It was the Beltane before last."

She shook her head in disbelief. "How quickly time passes these days."

Smiling, Osric agreed. "And it only speeds up. But to answer your question - yes. This dispossession leaves Theodoric with nothing. The birthright I was so overjoyed to bestow on him is now meaningless. My other sons Cenfus and Eadwig have fared better, having farms of their own. The rest of the cattle were split between them. I was fortunate that my daughters married well and to my relief have remained unharmed by these troubles. "

"And how is Theodoric coping?"

Osric smiled wryly. "He reacted much as you did at first, but he has accepted his fate."

"Is there any way I can be at your service? Could Bronwyn use my help making ready for your journey?"

"I'm sure she will be thankful of the offer, but she and Alfwyn are at the last of it. We set out tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"I don't know when the Norman earl will arrive and I want to be well gone when he does. I don't know what to expect, but I don't want any trouble."

"What do you know of this earl? Is he a good man?" The thought of one of William's men living so close unnerved her.

"I'm sorry, Edana, but I know little. His name is Guy de Rouen. I doubt he is one of William's favourites. Mine was a comparatively small holding and whomever it was bequeathed to won't have a lot of power." Then putting his palms on the table, Osric pushed himself to his feet slowly, as if suddenly his weight was more than he could bear. "I wish I could stay longer and enjoy your good company but I have details I must attend to. Good-bye, Edana."

"You are leaving at dawn?" Edana knew well that most long journeys were best begun at dawn to make the most of the daylight.

"We are."

"Then I'll not say good-bye now. I will come tomorrow to see you on your way," she said firmly.

"As you wish, Little Fire. 'Til tomorrow." The thane nodded and turned to leave.

"The moon is full this night. It will be waning by morning. A waning moon is good for departures," she told him as she followed him out onto the porch.

But not as good for arrivals, she thought. It didn't bode well for this Guy de Rouen should he arrive in the next fortnight before the new moon.

Edana had much to accomplish before morning, but before ought else, she took the deed and purse and stuffed them into the foot of her freshly cleaned feather tick. Being the night of a full moon she had herbs to gather. On top of that she planned to make a talisman for Osric's trek. She felt it the least she could do.

After choosing a scrap of green wool, she fetched a small piece of amethyst. The costly gemstone was brought to Keswick from northern Scotland and sold at the market. Its sharp edges had been polished off so it resembled a stone one might find on the beach. As a little girl she'd found many on the beaches of the Isle of Man,but no pebble she'd ever found matched the lustre of this purple gem.

Gazing at the amethyst she realized why Aldefader had wanted extra pennies. Rare stones were expensive, but their powerful magic outweighed their cost. Normally she would charge for its use, but this was for Osric. Besides, she thought, she too now had extra pennies to spend on potent magic.

Edana felt the power of the stone course through her, making her hands grow warm. Even when she set it onto the wool, its power didn't diminish. Atop and around the stone she placed comfrey, mint, feverfew, Irish moss, thistle and leek for Wales. Over it all she drizzled bay oil. Then she sealed it with white candle wax and her pure intent.

"Perfect," she said as she bound the little bundle with green thread. Then she placed it in a leather pouch she had sewn specifically to carry talismans. The pouch hung on long leather thongs so it could be worn around a person's neck. She'd crafted many such charms, but usually to gain love, money or to ward off evil for the wearer. She'd even made a few travel talismans, but none such as this. It was as though it had a life of its own. Surely it was the most potent talisman she'd ever wrought.

Pleased and comforted by her success, Edana decided to rest her head. She had much to do before morning and she wanted her wits about her. With so much on her mind she thought sleep would be long in coming but to her surprise she opened her eyes to find her bedroom dark. Checking at the window she discovered the moon had risen. A few clouds scudded by, but it was a mostly clear night – perfect for harvesting.

Edana kindled a small fire outside to light her ritual. Walking as the sun moved she cast her circle thrice using her favourite rowan wand to raise its invisible walls. Then facing the east, she called the Elementals and the Ancient Ones, asking them to join her. Moving to the centre of her sacred space she murmured to the night sky and invoked the God and Goddess. She spent a long time on her knees with her face lifted to the moon and her heart open, beseeching their help in fulfilling her intentions.

When she was satisfied that she could do no more, she thanked the Elementals, the Ancient Ones and the Goddess and God for their presence. Then walking widdershins with her wand, she took the circle down. While she felt like she'd accomplished much, she still had plenty to do before dawn.

Only stopping long enough to pick up a knife, a flask of water, a small vial of honey and a few pieces of linen she set off on her well-worn path to gather the herbs she needed. Compared to the last night of the full moon, this outing was serene. Nonetheless, when she reached the spot where she'd heard the hue and cry on the road her heart raced. The memory of the screams gave her chills. But then her thoughts went to Mylward. Her heart still ached with missing him. Would it ever stop? Come market day she'd make a trip to town. She would have to see him then. It would be rude not to. That thought calmed her and continuing along her path, she filled her baskets easily. On her way back from the dead nettle patch a fine mist formed in the air. Covering her harvest with a piece of linen, she trotted home.

By the time she reached her house she could see the sky brightening in the east, even through the mist. Knowing she had little time to waste, she traded her baskets for her hooded cloak and the talisman, then made her way to Osric's.

Before reaching the great house, Edana heard voices. She quickened her pace. When she emerged from the path she saw more people and horses than she expected. There were four large carts and one carriage. Edana had never seen so much furniture in her life. She'd been inside the great house many times, but never realized how much it had contained. It was no wonder Osric had needed more horses. There were two men driving each cart and two more atop the carriage. Besides the drivers, every cart held two other people. Osric was taking his entire household with him.

It was a long way to go for these people who'd likely never travelled more than ten miles outside of Keswick. But Osric was a man who inspired loyalty. In addition, none would want to work for the Norman earl who had usurped their thane, even if the prospect of such a journey was daunting.

"Wait! Wait!" Edana called as she hurried to the carriage at the front of the line. By the time she stepped onto the footboard, she was panting.

Bronwyn's face lit up with a smile. "We thought maybe you'd decided against a tearful good-bye."

Edana shook her head. "Never. Here," she said, thrusting the talisman through the open window in the door. "It's for protection and a safe journey."

Bronwyn thanked her as she slipped it over her wimple and let it hang between her tunic and her shift.

With her breath finally caught, Edana saw clearly who sat inside. With Bronwyn were her daughter-in-law, Alfwyn, the housekeeper and Bronwyn's maid.

Edana's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Where are Osric and Theodoric?"

"Up here," a familiar voice called.

"They didn't want to be stuck in here with the women," Alfwyn explained with a giggle.

As Edana smiled at Alfwyn she took note of a gentle swell under the girl's tunic.

"Alfwyn, you are with child! Had I known, I would have made a talisman especially for you."

"I know your talismans, Edana. I'm sure the one you brought will be more than enough protection for us all," the girl assured her.

"Are you finished with your gossiping?" Theodoric called down to them. "It's time we are on our way."

The young man was beset by a battery of complaints at his charge as Edana stepped off the carriage and out of the way.

"Good-bye and safe journey," she called with a smile, hoping it would hide her trembling lips.

A chorus of good-byes and fare thee wells filled the air as the line moved out of the yard. Pulling her cloak tightly around her against the chill of the mist, Edana watched the procession until it rounded a corner and left her sight.

She remembered telling Edmund shortly after the last full moon that the invasion by the Normans had little to do with her. Less than a month later her whole world had changed. She'd fallen in love and then felt the bitter pain of separation. She was slowly coming to terms with that when the people she was closest to were forced out of their home. She would never see them again. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly alone. Collapsing to her knees in the damp grass, Edana put her face in her hands and wept.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter seven

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Mylward POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Although he'd lived in a prosperous and busy mill in Mercia, Mylward found Keswick to be different than he expected. In his mind's eye he'd pictured a drowsy country village. Yes, the buildings were tall, at least three stories, but they had space between them and fronted wide grassy streets. There was a large oak in the square and in the early morning, the smell of baking bread wafted among the houses. Those loaves were kneaded with flour, fresh from the miller. It was, in fact, his own village of Tamworth he imagined; his fader's own mill and flour. Keswick, in truth, was larger and busier than his home in the Midlands.

That mill sat at the junction of the River Tame and Watling Street. It was a daunting building, looming over water and road, casting its shadow on both. It was impressive and frightening. Its structure was large and foreboding, with few windows. When the waters of the Tame poured into the wheel and turned the runner stone, it bellowed like a beast. Many children ran in terror from the monster on the Tame.

As a boy, Mylward laughed at their fears. He didn't even notice the noise. Fader ran the mill in the mornings, if there was corn to grind. Sometimes it didn't run at all. At the peak of the harvest the runner turned morning, noon and night. The dusty (his father's apprentice) and later Mylward would sleep in the mill to keep it running. It wasn't the sound of grinding that disturbed his sleep, but the lack of it.

Sleeping in the mill, however, was the easiest part of apprenticing. As soon as Mylward was able to haul the bags of grain up to the sack floor using the hoist, his father released the dusty. From then on it was Mylward's job to heft the wheat up to the top of the mill and pour it into the chute. He quickly became stronger than his friends. Their wrestling matches proved that a miller was stronger than a mason, a carpenter and even a smithy. They held the contests often to be sure. Fader manned the sluice, controlling the amount of water hitting the wheel which in turn determined how fast the stone turned. He yelled if he needed Mylward to add more grain or if Mylward was slow in adding grain to the chute. When the milling was finished, it was Mylward's job to go down to the meal floor and bag the flour, keeping the miller's toll aside. The toll, a portion of each grinding, was how a miller got paid. That flour was in turn sold to the people of the town for their daily bread.

Fader rarely left the stone floor. Occasionally, when a repair was required that was beyond Mylward's skills, Fader would climb to the sack floor and teach him how to mend the equipment. It didn't take long for Mylward to learn how to fix everything. After that Fader taught him the intricacies of the sluice gate and the stones.

Fader, of course, having worked in the mills all his life, heard little. The stones had robbed him of that sense. Many of Mylward's memories of his mother were her shouting at Fader to be heard. As the years passed the poor woman was largely unsuccessful and while frustrated, she never grew angry. His sister, Saewynn, was lucky to be left in the kitchen with Mader. Mylward knew if he worked in the mill, he too, would be deaf at forty.

Keswick, as it turned out, was more hectic than his sleepy Tamworth. There was just enough bustle to suggest good trade, but not sufficient that the smell of human excrement hung in the air. The first time his nose was assaulted by that reek was when his father took him to Birmingham. It was loud, but in a different way than the mill. The streets were muddy, even in winter. A miller has no time for such travels in summer, but even the cold couldn't keep the stench at bay. Mylward knew then, that winter when he was fourteen, the city was no place for him.

The mill was a wonderful place to be a lad. It offered the best of both worlds. The pasturelands and woods nearby gave him room to roam in his free time. Or there was Tamworth, just two miles away, where he could run the grassy streets with his friends. If Mylward had worked hard in the mill, and occasionally even if he hadn't, his fader would toss him a few coppers. His mates all thought him rich.

That notion amused him. He'd been with his father to the big houses near Tamworth, to deliver flour. He learned that even between the so-called wealthy there was a disparity in riches. Before meeting them, he imagined that everyone in the big houses would by happy and carefree. They had so much money and didn't have to sweat for it, like his fader. Why wouldn't they be happy? At first he thought it was one sour codger, but then he encountered landowner after landowner who were nothing but miserable. These were not happy men, or they didn't appear so when doing business with Fader. The rich men brought their grain to the mill, in many a wagonload, but they expected their flour to be delivered. He dreaded the trips to the great houses.

On the other hand he relished the times when the farmers with small land holdings showed up with their carts of grain. They all seemed a merry lot, laughing and joking with Fader. They told off-colour stories and winked at Mylward as they did. They waited while the stones turned and Mylward would run with their bairn, if they weren't afraid of the mill. He knew every soul in Tamworth.

Mylward learned so much more than milling from Fader. He discovered early on that the rich men paid with more of their flour. They had their flour delivered - it was only fair. He also knew which men Fader charged little flour for the use of the mill and which he charged none. They were ones who brought grain in a sack on their backs; the gleaners. In fact, Mylward knew those sacks would go away heavier than they'd arrived.

As a young lad he didn't understand why Fader gave away their flour. At the abbey school he learned those deeds made Fader a good man, though he'd never heard him speak of God when he filled those sacks.

In his life, Mylward met many good men, but none had been wealthy. His host in Keswick, 'Uncle' Edmund, seemed to defy that rule. Judging by the size of his house, the number of servants and the food laid out at every meal, Edmund the Fair was a wealthy man. Still he was jovial, even when dealing with troubles. That wasn't a trait common to the other rich men Mylward had met. He was most certainly the good man that Edana had sworn him to be.

After Mylward's arrival at the largest house in Keswick proper, he thought it right to share his history with his host, but Edmund would have none of it.

"You are Dalton to me and naught else. What I don't know can never be wrought from my mouth."

The longer Mylward spent in the house, the more he respected the man. Edmund was wise in ways a miller wasn't and Mylward hoped to learn much from his counsel.

Edmund's goodness was shared by his wife, Rowena. Theirs was the happiest moneyed home Mylward had known. He supposed it to be the exception that proved the rule. Swayn was their only bairn yet at home, but their sons, Brychan and Ulgar and daughters, Cynwise and Leofwyn visited almost daily. Two of the bairns of the scullery maid had the run of the house during the day since she had no one else to tend to them. Rowena never complained about their presence, saying only children could make a house feel like a home. Even the older children of the servants, the ones who themselves were working, stopped in to visit. The merriment of the household made him miss his own family.

Even though Edmund and Rowena were more than hospitable, Mylward had spent most of his time in Keswick decidedly glum. In the first days his heart ached with missing Edana. He hoped she would stop in to check on him, but her shadow never darkened the reeve's door.

While he was under her roof, he was sure he'd seen a hint that she shared his feelings, but now doubts crept in. If she'd cared for him at all, would she not have tried to see him? Many times each day he was on the verge of going to her. He spent hours trying to think of a reason. He'd come up with several, but they were all poor. Even though life in Keswick was hectic, Mylward found plenty of time to think about Edana. He prayed to fall ill again, but her skills were such that it never came to pass. There was simply no good reason to see her.

As it happened there was another thing Edana was right about. Although Keswick was slightly larger than Tamworth, maybe by five hundred souls, there were few secrets, perhaps only the one shared by Edana, Edmund and himself. It was as though he couldn't go to the feltun without it being a source of gossip. There was no way to conceal a visit to the local herbalist.

To make matters worse, the meddlesome priest was forever visiting the house. At first Mylward thought Edmund was a parishioner of Augustine's and his interest in Mylward was in deference to Edmund's station. That changed when he overheard a hushed conversation between Rowena and her husband after another of the cleric's visits.

"Why must that priest be here every day?" Rowena's tone was exasperated. "He always gets himself invited to sup."

"Perhaps he likes your food as much as I," Edmund retorted in a louder voice than his wife had used.

"Do you think he wants us to move to St. Giles? I've attended Crosthwaite since I was a girl. We were married there, " came Rowena's soft response.

"I'll not switch to St. Giles," Edmund said firmly. "Crosthwaite is the oldest and wealthiest church in Keswick. Augustine's church is barely more than a rural parish and if he thinks we're moving, he's plain barmy! Father Egbert would have his hide if he tried to usurp us."

"Then what prompts his visits?"

"You know that Dalton is yet on everyone's tongue."

A short pause followed Edmund's statement. Mylward was surprised that he should still be of any interest. Was there nothing else going on in Keswick?

"Augustine wants first-hand information and wants news to be first on his lips. You heard him tell Dalton about Osric. That cleric is in over his head. He had no idea he wasn't the first to bring that news into our house. I have an inkling about what he's after but he'll never get it that way. But if he never learns the trick, so much the better," Edmund said.

"And I'm sure you won't share your means. But what is he trying to uncover?"

"I think that is best left unsaid. I don't know that I'm right. Besides, you know priests, they are the worst busybodies. Worse even than you and your sisters." Edmund guffawed.

His comment was followed by a tsk and a smacking noise. The couple then began to laugh quietly and Mylward stopped listening. He hoped Edmund was correct and Augustine didn't harbour any particular suspicions. He was leery when the cleric told him about the local thane being dispossessed. He reacted passively to the tale, not wanting the priest to see his disquiet. A new Norman earl might be intrigued by Mylward's arrival in Keswick. He didn't want to give Augustine cause to share the story.

Mylward did his best to make himself useful. The household thought of him as Edmund's injured nephew, but he didn't see that as an excuse for sloth. His health improved daily, yet chores he used to do without a second thought were beyond him.

Instead of mucking out the stalls, he was only able to look after the horses' tack. Feeding and watering he could help with as long as he moved slowly. He found himself helping out in the kitchen more than he had since he was a young lad. As he had at Edana's, he kept the knives well honed. He cleaned the hearth and even chopped onions for Astrid, Edmund's cook.

One evening a week into his stay, Mylward lingered later in the kitchen than was his custom. Astrid had been complaining about the spit in the hearth. The weight no longer pulled the chain down and Astrid had to crank it by hand. Upon inspection he found the axle to be at fault. He had the gear assembly in pieces on the kitchen floor when the cook's daughter stopped at the house.

"Ah, my beautiful Goldyna, we've been awaiting your visit." Astrid hugged her daughter tightly and kissed her ruddy cheek. "Dalton, will you fetch Edmund? He's been anxious to hear from my girl."

Although Mylward couldn't fathom why Edmund might want to talk to the cook's daughter, he did as he was bade. He found Edmund in the room on the third floor where he did his business. When Mylward's father had book work, it was carried out at the kitchen table. Edmund's money afforded him a separate room for such industry.

As Astrid claimed, Edmund was pleased to hear of Goldyna's arrival and hurried down the stairs in front of his guest. Mylward had never seen the man move so fast.

"Ah, my child, we've all been abuzz," he exclaimed when he saw her. "What news have you?" Edmund pulled out a chair and sat down, still breathing heavily from his exertion.

Kneeling in front of the gears again, Mylward tried to appear disinterested though he was anything but. He hadn't seen Edmund this eager about anything since he got to Keswick - not over a mug of ale or over a deal settled in his favour - nothing.

"The priest had a very important guest today. He made me run from dawn 'til the man arrived. It was a bishop called Cecil from the cathedral in Durham. I couldn't hear everything because I was scurrying so, but once as I filled their ale mugs, I heard the bishop tell Augustine the new earl will be arriving within a fortnight and his name is Guy de Rouen."

Edmund said, "Come here, child," and held out his hands. When she was within reach he grasped her head and pulled her down to kiss her forehead. "You've done well. Now you bustle off home and be sure to take the alleys."

Mylward reassembled the components of the spit as good-byes were said. He'd realized early on, even before he met Edmund that the reeve was smart, but he'd recently learned how truly cunning the man was. The rebels could've used a man with guile in their fight. Mylward was fortunate to have him as an ally.

After Goldyna's visit Edmund became especially busy and remained that way for almost a week. Many evenings he did not return until well after supper. He never spoke of his business, and Mylward thought it was not his place to ask, but he knew it had to involve the new earl.

Then just as suddenly as he'd become occupied, Edmund once again had free time after the evening meal and asked Mylward to join him in his private room upstairs. Once they were settled in their chairs he inquired after Mylward's mood.

"'Tis naught," Mylward responded with a shrug, a gesture that no longer pained him.

"'Tis something," Edmund contradicted quietly. "At first I thought it only your way, but Swayn says you were always quick to smile in the good company of Edana."

Mylward looked into the large man's eyes, but he could find nothing untoward in them. Recalling Swayn's comment about Dalton coming so far to marry Edana he felt sure Edmund would welcome his feelings toward the mysterious woman. Even so, he was not ready to share how he felt with anyone, not even Edmund. Not until he'd confessed his love to the woman, herself.

"I have been pondering," Mylward finally admitted. "I miss the company of my family. I think the time for my journey home has arrived." He thought this to be true because he felt there was nothing for him in Keswick.

"You will do no such thing!" Edmund bellowed.

The fervor in the reeve's voice made Mylward sit back in his chair, wide-eyed.

"Use your noggin, my good maeg!"

In spite of being taken aback at Edmund's outburst, it soothed him to be called maeg. It seemed to mean that Edmund had taken their false ties to heart by addressing him as a family member. Anyone overhearing them would have no doubt Dalton was a male relative.

"But there is nothing for me here, Eam." Mylward followed suit, referring to Edmund as his mother's brother.

The Reeve leaned forward and began in a much lower voice, "Maeg, you cannot go. Do you think so little of your family that you would risk their lives by ever showing your face in Mercia again?"

It was true. Mylward couldn't be sure why he'd considered the journey. Perhaps he felt so secure in his new identity that he'd forgotten his face was unchanged. Both of his scars were well hidden, either by his hair or his tunic. He would appear unscathed, untrue though it were. Yet even in his absence, his family may have suffered for his actions. He prayed they were unharmed.

"You are right, as always, Eam. But what of the rest of my life? What am I to do? You've been a very gracious host, more than is warranted, but I cannot avail myself of your good will evermore."

"I'm certain Rowena would not be opposed, nor Swayn. They have both grown fond of you. I should not exclude myself from that company, but I understand why a young man wants to make his own way." Edmund leaned his girth farther into the space between them and patted Mylward's knee.

"And how will I earn the money I need to live? Shall I work as a stable boy at the inn or at the great house as a groom?" Mylward regarded Edmund through narrowed eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, Edmund heaved a sigh. "I know I said I was fond of you, Dalton, but I find this self-pity insufferable."

Though he realized the big man saw himself as a father, the bluntness of his speech stunned Mylward. Even more so since the words the reeve chose weren't so far from what his own fader uttered when Mylward had balked at the thought of taking over the mill. He bristled now as he had then.

"Forgive me, Eam. I'm obviously blind to the wealth of choices open to me. Counsel me." He didn't try to hide the sarcasm in his voice so he was confused when a smile started on Edmund's lips.

"That's the fighting attitude I expected, maeg. I'm sure if we put our heads together, we'll come up with something."

Mylward was surprised to find himself gripping the armrests of the chair. Oddly, his anger hadn't disturbed his host. Instead it appeared to have brightened his countenance. Mylward calmed his ready temper and said, "I'm all ears."

Edmund rubbed his hands together as though he were sitting down to his favourite meal. "I know you aren't afraid of a day's labour. You've been keen to help whenever you can. What we need to do is work out how you can make a life for yourself. Would that you had money to buy some acreage."

As the words left Edmund's mouth, the image of a crooked yew and two fools burying a sack of coins popped into Mylward's mind.

"What is it?" Edmund leaned forward again. "What have you remembered?"

As Mylward recounted the tale of he and Alfred secreting their stash, the older man began to smile.

"So the acreage might be possible after all. Do you have enough to buy some land?"

"Maybe a small patch, but that isn't what concerns me. I know nothing about farming, save feeding some chickens. My nose has been at the grindstone since the day I was weaned."

"A mylward!" Edmund's big hand came down on his beefy thigh with a thunderous clout. Mylward started back in his chair in surprise. "You're a miller," the old man repeated, this time quietly.

The younger man nodded. "I am." Had Edmund known his true name, his profession would not have been a mystery. Even still he could not fathom a reason for the man to react so immoderately to the news. A miller was not an improbable trade. "Why does the knowledge affect you so?"

"Well, maeg, being new to these parts, I'm sure you don't know much of our industry," Edmund began.

"I've espied much dairy, but few fields of grain." Mylward paused as he thought. "The town seems like any other; a smithy, a wheelwright, a cartwright, several kilns, an oast, and a brickyard. There's a sawyer to the west, and I've smelled the tannery when the wind blows the wrong way. There's a mill east of the town. We passed it on the way here with the priest."

The large man nodded and looked impressed. "You've a keen eye and nose. And as you might have guessed by the name, Keswick is renowned for her cheese. Yet her dwellers still need their bread. Any corn grown in this corner of the shire is used for animal fodder. Oats do well in this soil, but a better profit is turned from livestock. The grain for bread comes from the fields around Penrith and is hauled here along the old road."

"And is ground at the mill I passed?"

"'Tis and it's the only mill for miles," Edmund added with a wide smile. Mylward was at a loss to understand the man's glee.

"How does this help, Eam? The way you tell it, I'll have to take to the road to find a mill for sale."

"Ah, but maeg, what you fail to consider is the wealth of knowledge my office affords me. Being the reeve of a town is akin to being her father. The town's business is my business. Her successes are mine as are her failures."

Mylward grew ever more irked as his host spoke, though he at last understood the source of Swayn's incessant tongue. He knew Edmund's fortunes were tied to that of the town, but he kept his mouth clamped. Surely the man would make his point soon. Wanting to appear polite, Mylward nodded his encouragement.

"I feel the welfare of Keswick is my burden. I pledged her my troth when I was sworn as Reeve."

So now Keswick was both daughter and wife? The Bible had laws about such matters. Mylward felt his eye start to twitch and was sure his head would burst. The tale had to be near its end.

Mylward nodded again.

"That mill on the River Greta is vital to Keswick. To have her bread, its stones must continue to turn. Else the price of flour goes up and the wealth of the town declines."

Finally he could bear it no further. "But what has any of this to do with my plight, Eam?"

"Everything, maeg. Everything." Leaning forward again, Edmund rubbed his hands together. "'Tis as if a plan had been laid out in the days of yore, perhaps by God himself, but it's only now we can see how everything is coming together for the boon of all concerned."

"What plan, Edmund? What are you talking about?" Mylward found himself perched on the edge of his seat.

"I think your life was spared on that road to save the fortune of this town," Edmund said solemnly.

Gooseflesh covered Mylward's skin like an army of fleas marching over him and he barely contained his shudder. Edana had made a similar allusion just three weeks past. He, however, chose not to divulge that to the reeve. For some reason he jealously guarded everything that passed between him and his healer.

"How could a miller possibly save the fortune of this town?" Mylward sat back in the chair, clasped his hands over his chest.

"That mill you saw on your way to town, well, the miller is past his prime. He's well nigh fifty, Bertram is and the work is hard for him. He's ready to sell the mill but there is no one to buy it. He has apprenticed some Keswick lads but none of them could afford to buy a mill. He and his good wife will live with their daughter, but they need this money so as not be a burden in their old age. "

"He has no one to run it?" At his question, Mylward thought of his own father, who would be left now with no one to pass the mill on to. His parent's marriage had only yielded the two children. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't something that had ever been discussed within his earshot, but after the birth of Saewynn, his mother bore no more bairns.

Mylward could only pray that the plan Edmund spoke of might include one of Bertram's apprentices journeying to his father's mill one day and through some miracle having the means to buy it. He knew it would break his fader's heart should the millstones ever stop turning, if the loss of his son hadn't shattered it already. Had something similar befallen the mill here, he wondered.

"Alas, Bertram was only blest with daughters," Edmund said, studying Mylward's face as he spoke.

"And none married a mylward or have sons to apprentice?"

"All are married - one to a mason, one to a wheelwright and the other to a local farmer. She hasn't borne any children. The mason and wheelwright are journeymen and have left Keswick."

It was a tale Mylward knew all too well. If you were the oldest son, you could be sure to have your father's trade. Second, third or worse had to fend for themselves. Taking up the cloth was one option. The other was to work as an apprentice with your father or some craft that beckoned, but when that apprenticeship was complete, you had to take to the road and find a place in need of your skill. Mylward lost many friends to such journeys.

Edmund's voice startled Mylward out of his thoughts. "It was as though your life was spared so you could buy that mill."

Mylward doubted that running a mill was what Edana had in mind when she suggested his life had been spared. He imagined she meant something much grander, but he said nothing, not wanting to appear prideful. To his thinking, Edmund was getting ahead of himself.

Shaking his head slowly, he said, "I think I may have misconstrued the size of that sack of coins, Edmund. I doubt there's enough in it to buy a mill."

The rotund man seemed to shrink in front of Mylward's eyes. "How much was it?"

"I'm uncertain of the sum. There were six of us; we all put money into that pouch. We didn't count it."

"What was your share?" Edmund asked tentatively.

Mylward thought back to that night. Their plan had been hatched over several pints of ale. He hoped that wouldn't obscure his memory. "More than four shillings, I'm certain of that, but less than five."

"If you each put in four shillings it will be plenty. Bertram is only wanting sixteen and six," Edmund said, the light returning to his face.

But Mylward spoke up quickly. "We didn't all cast in four, I'm sure of that. We had to keep some back and a couple of the lads started out with lighter pockets."

Despite this news, Edmund remained undeterred. "Ah, but even if the total is at least half, I could see my way to the rest."

Mylward straightened up in distress. "No. I couldn't be beholden, Edmund. I am already in your debt."

The reeve started to laugh. A full belly laugh, it was. And it continued until his eyes watered and his face grew red. Mylward slumped in his chair, chagrinned, and waited.

When Edmund's chortling slowed, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic and regarded his guest with twinkling eyes. "I never said t'would be a gift. I'll expect the money back. What I shan't do is charge a lending fee as you are helping me out in a pinch."

Mylward hoped that Edmund did not think him a fool. Since he'd begun to discuss the finer points of the matter, Mylward supposed his greenness was forgotten.

"After the first year, bring me your books. We'll go over them together and decide how much is reasonable for you to repay each year. Can you keep proper books?"

Mylward nodded. "I knew my numbers even before I went to the abbey school. Fader could only read a few words, but he knew every number and well. He kept his ledgers exact to a fourthling."

He'd always thought it odd that a man who was so scrupulous with his books would also give away extra flour to the gleaners and others who were in need. Fader once said when his son balked at going to school, "Whatever happens, I have to be able to feed my kin. With good books, I know exactly how much spillage we can bear." As a boy, Mylward had only thought Fader to be a dusty miller. As he matured he grew to understand what a wise man he was.

"A good tally is the difference between mutton and lamb." Edmund nodded, seemingly happy with this new knowledge.

"When I left school with all my letters and numbers, the books became my charge."

Edmund sat forward and patted Mylward's knee again. "So much the better. The money would've been yours either way, but it pleases my heart and my purse that you know your columns."

Smiling in return, Mylward remained silent. The two men looked at each other for a few moments before the younger took a deep breath.

"I'm buying a mill."

"That you are, maeg. And on the morrow, we'll share the good tidings with Bertram."

The two days following passed in a flurry of activity. Edmund gave Bertram eight shillings and four pence as a show of good faith. No one thought it odd that Dalton's uncle might secure the mill for his nephew. To anyone who asked, they said Dalton was returning to Mercia to tell his fader about the purchase and fetch the money he'd been promised should he find a piece of fitting land. To the women they added that Dalton wanted to assure his mader he'd recovered from the tumble off his horse.

Upon his return Mylward would give Bertram the rest of the purchase price. He was certain they'd buried at least that much. Naturally Bertram would wait until the final corn of the season had been ground before handing the business over to Mylward. As such, it would be many months before the mill turned a profit.

For the journey, Edmund lent him Gestum, his best horse, a sharp sword and money to pay for a bed each night. Even though Fall was near, the nights were still warm, so Mylward planned to bed down under the stars unless they be veiled by rain. Every penny he spent mattered to him now. His travels would only take two weeks owing to Edmund's horse. He would be settled into his new abode long before winter was upon them.

Mylward had expected the morning of his parting to be clear because the full moon had shone into his window the night before, but the day dawned misty and cool. Others might have been distraught at such weather, but Mylward knew full sun meant a more difficult time for both man and beast. The horse might give him twenty-  
five miles on a cool day.

"Safe journey!" Edmund said as he shook Mylward's hand.

Rowena had also risen early to stuff both Mylward and his saddlebags full of food for his progress. She stood alongside her husband as they bade him farewell. "Take care not to tumble from this horse, Dalton. I doubt you'll find another healer as skilled as Edana on your travels. Are you sure you don't want a thicker cloak? I don't want you to catch a chill. Edana would never forgive me." Rowena straightened the collar of his shift under his tunic as she spoke.

Mylward kissed Rowena on the cheek. "I'm sure I'll be plenty warm." Then he turned and swung onto Gestum. "And I promise I'll be far more careful on this journey. I don't wish to ever suffer such a grievous injury again. I can't thank you enough for all that you've done for me, Edmund. And Rowena, you too have been most gracious."

His hostess brushed his compliment aside with a wave of her hand. "You're family, Dalton. Think nothing of it."

"Aye but being family doesn't mean I should forego good manners. So I thank you again," Mylward said earnestly from his perch.

"You make it sound like you won't be returning. Be off with you!" The reeve slapped the horse for effect. "The sooner you go the sooner you'll be back with us."

The horse had started at Edmund's hand, but it settled quickly under Mylward's rein.

"Expect my return in a fortnight," Mylward said over his shoulder. When facing forward again, he urged the horse on. They hadn't gone more than a few paces when Edmund called to him.

"We will. And when that deed to the mill is yours, I expect your next journey to be to Edana's to ask for her hand."

Mylward pulled on the reins and twisted in the saddle once more to gape at the man.

Edmund and Rowena laughed good naturedly at him.

"I may be long in the tooth," Edmund said, loudly enough to stir the neighbours. "But I still know a man in love when I see him."

End chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter eight

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Edana POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

In the days that followed Osric's departure an odd feeling nagged Edana. Several times each day she spun around quickly, thinking someone was behind her. But there was nothing, only Wulf cocking his head at her antics. She thought perhaps there was a task she'd missed in her fall cleaning, but running over them one by one in her mind, she realized she'd missed nothing. Then she checked all of her herbs, salves, oils and medicines and found everything in order. She had wool, linen and thread in abundance. There was nothing she needed at the market.

She had more ale and mead than she could possibly drink before it spoiled. Not wanting to waste it she decided to take it to town on market day. She was sure she could sell it, or at least get something in trade, but for what she had no idea.

Even with that decision made, Edana didn't feel at ease. The treasures Osric gave her were still tucked safely at the foot of her bed. She only need walk by her room and their presence was on her mind. She'd never seen that many coins together at one time. And the deed, while only a scrap of parchment, represented her house and the land it sat on. That meant more to her than any sack of coins.

Pennies could be spent, lost or stolen, but land was forever. This holding, small as it was, could sustain Edana on its own. Her chickens, honey, plums, blackberries and small garden were more than enough for her. On top of that, with the barley and yeast she got in trade for her skills she could make ale to sell for a penny here and there. If she didn't get enough grain, there was always mead.

Edana felt a connection to the land beyond what it might give her. She knew it far better than she knew any person. Vitality flowed through her from the soil, rocks and trees. To Edana, its loss would be like depriving her of the air she breathed. And yet her only claim to it was hidden in her feather bed. What if something should happen to it? What would that mean?

Edana wasn't sure what to do with the deed. Aldefader hadn't wanted it in the house. That knowledge only added to her discomfort. She knew of only one person she could trust with a matter like this – Edmund. She was certain he would know what to do.

She would hook Wulf up to the little cart, fill it with ale and mead, and then take it to Edmund instead of selling it at market. The reeve was fond of her ale and she didn't want to go empty handed since she was seeking his advice.

With a plan in place, Edana felt a little more at peace. It wasn't just dealing with the deed that bolstered her spirits; she was looking forward to seeing Mylward again. It had only been a fortnight but it seemed to her as though more than a month had passed since she saw him last.

The following morning as she attached a harness to Wulf, he looked up at her forlornly.

She scratched his head. "It's just a walk into town. You'll be fine."

Once the cart was loaded, Edana fetched a leather sack, slung it over her shoulder and stashed the deed and purse safely inside. With an overwhelming sense that she was doing the right thing, she began her walk to town.

Had she been on her own, the trip would've been faster. But with Wulf pulling the cart at a sluggish pace, it took almost an hour. Getting ahead of him several times, she had to speak sharply to him to quicken his steps. Edana hoped to find Edmund, meet with him and be home again before midday.

Edmund's house sat facing the town square, which was dominated by a public well. On market day the well would be surrounded by stalls filled with everything Keswick had to offer and more. Being so close to the sea, they had the luxury of imported goods that people inland wouldn't know existed. Such a location was well-suited to the reeve. It put him in close proximity to all the news in Keswick.

Like Aldefader's house Edmund's home featured two stories above an undercroft. It had a separate room entirely for cooking, called a kitchen, and another where they did nothing but sup. Edmund even had a room where he could sit by the fire and conduct his business. Edana had marveled at the vastness of the house when she treated Swayn the previous winter.

In spite of his ability to know everything that happened in the vicinity, Edmund never seemed to stick his nose into other people's business, unlike some Edana could think of. She had no idea how he accomplished the feat, nor did she care to. There were large political issues she thought were likely important to know, but the 'who did what to whom' held little pull for her.

Several people greeted her as she crossed the square toward the reeve's house. All were people she'd met through her work as a healer. In fact, Edana thought there wasn't a single family in town that hadn't received her skills in one manner or other.

Before she made it to the far side she saw a familiar figure hurrying toward her.

She nodded at the woman. "Fair morning, Darelle."

As soon as Edana stopped walking, Wulf sat at her side.

"And to you, Edana. It isn't often we see you in town. Is someone ailing?"

Though she knew Darelle to be far too interested in gossip for her own good, Edana was surprised that the woman's concern sounded genuine.

"No, not that I know of. I'm bringing Edmund some ale and mead. I have more than I can use."

Darelle bobbed her wimpled head. "Tis sad news about Osric. Everyone hereabouts was heartily sorry to hear it. And all anxiously await the arrival of the Norman earl. What do you know of him?"

"I'm afraid I know little. Osric told me his name is Guy de Rouen, but I know nothing else."

"Folks are worried that taxes will go up. They have in every other town the Normans took over."

Edana had never thought about taxes. She'd always considered herself a tenant who only paid rent. She wondered if the new earl would take ale and mead instead of taxes.

"And what does Edmund say?" Edana asked, trying not to sound concerned.

"He says the King's men paid for the invasion with their lives and we will pay for it with taxes."

Edana heaved a sigh. "Then there is nothing to be done but pay." Knowing Darelle was one to dwell on the melancholy, Edana changed the subject. "How is Wynn faring? Has he recovered from his injury?"

"He is well, thank you."

"It has been pleasant talking, but I shouldn't tarry. Good day to you, Darelle." Edana patted Wulf on the head. "Let's go."

"It's really too bad you didn't come to town a few days ago. You could've said good-bye to Dalton," Darelle said cheerfully.

Edana's heart fluttered. She hoped her disappointment wasn't plain on her face.

"He's gone?" She tried to sound curious rather than despondent.

"Yes, back to Mercia a few days ago. Your wise methods healed him well. These new doctors would do well to study the old ways."

"I'm sure they have their place, but I thank you, Darelle." She nodded her head slightly. "However, I really must be going. I'm sorry."

Darelle bent her head as well. "Of course. But do let us know if you see anything of the new earl."

"I will."

Edana held her head high as she finished crossing the square, but pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering. She knew her voice had been tight when she answered Darelle, and she was surprised that she'd been capable of speech at all. Edana quickly made her way down the alley between the houses and away from prying eyes. As soon as she rounded the back corner of Edmund's house she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Mylward was gone! He'd been gone for days. It hadn't entered her mind that he wouldn't be here. She'd simply missed being near him before, but finding out that he'd left Keswick made it feel like her heart was ripped out of her chest. She couldn't stop a sob from escaping her throat.

"Hello?" A familiar voice called.

Wiping her face with her hands, Edana cleared her throat. "Hello Astrid."

Astrid was Edmund's cook. Edana had spent many hours in her kitchen over the years.

"Whatever are you doing, child?"

"Wulf was tired from the journey. I was giving him a small rest."

"Both of you come up here and rest! What brings you to town?"

"I've brought some ale and mead for the house," Edana replied as she untethered the hound.

"Edmund will be thrilled. If ale could be wed, that man would wed yours."

In spite of herself, Edana laughed as she climbed the stairs. Wulf bounded up behind her and immediately laid beneath the work table, no doubt hoping to claim fallen scraps.

Edana had always enjoyed Astrid's company and the cook's lighthearted manner raised her spirits slightly. As much as it hurt, Edana knew that she could go on. She always did and though they would never know it, the people of Keswick would help her. Edana had been young when Aldefader left to join his ancestors. While it was true that she'd been old enough to marry, being by herself was harder than she would've imagined. But she hadn't been left alone for long. The good folks of Keswick showed her that she was one of their own.

Astrid always had a chair ready by the fire for her. She'd make them cups of warm spiced milk to drink while she listened to Edana's woes. More often than not she would simply sit quietly by the fire with her drink while the cook worked. Astrid seemed content to be the company the young girl needed. Edana still found a cup of spiced milk soothing.

The cook was an older woman, probably thirty-five. Edana had rarely seen her idle and imagined that she plucked chickens while she slept. But even with all of her industry, Astrid was quick to smile and her wit was surpassed by none.

"And how would Rowena feel about being jilted in such a fashion?" Edana retorted saucily.

"Did I hear my name?" The lady of the house came into the kitchen through the door that led to the great room where the family took their meals

"Aye, fair morning, Rowena." Edana greeted her with a smile. "I was just asking Astrid how you would feel about being thrown over for some of my ale."

"Ah, Edana my dear, the thing you both fail to consider is that ale passes but Edmund's love for my favours does not."

Astrid guffawed at her mistress's boldness and Edana felt her cheeks grow hot.

Rowena put her hand on Edana's shoulder. "I'm sorry, child. I shouldn't have been so brash. I forget sometimes that you are yet a maiden. You've brought ale? That is very kind of you."

"I'm afraid I don't come without a motive. I was hoping for some of Edmund's good counsel," Edana said with a guilty smile.

"Then you're just in time. He was just about to set off." Rowena picked up Edana's hand.

"The ale and mead are in the cart at the bottom of the stairs," Edana called over her shoulder to Astrid as Rowena pulled her through the door.

They found Edmund in his business room on the floor above. The chamber had a fireplace all its own, but no fire burned within. Two windows in the south wall were open to the square, letting both a breeze and voices in. A long, narrow table stood under the windows. On it were several books, some parchment, quills and ink. Two leather chairs faced each other in the middle of the room. Other chairs rested against the wall should more than two be needed. The reeve sat in one of the chairs in the heart of the room, struggling with his sandals.

"Let me help you." Rowena knelt before her husband.

"You are a good wife." Edmund leaned back in the chair and wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic. "And what a pleasant surprise, Edana. What brings you to us?"

"I'm here for your advice, Edmund." Edana then opened her pouch and withdrew the deed and purse.

"Sit." Edmund nodded to the chair opposite him. "What do you have there?"

Edana took the chair as she was bade but then looked down at the objects in her hands as though they were mysterious artifacts.

"Before Osric left he came to my house and gave me these." She held them up.

"There you are husband," Rowena said as she stood. "I'll leave you to talk. I should help Astrid with the ale Edana has brought us."

"Ah, you women spoil me. Is it any wonder I can't reach my feet?"

"Yes, we are all at fault. Edana, Astrid, your lovely daughters and I have been conspiring for years to keep you unshod."

Edmund slapped his leg. "I knew it. If but one of you had been a bad cook, I might have had a chance."

Edana let her hands fall to her lap. She felt a pang in her chest as she took in their exchange. She sensed that Mylward would've jested this way with the woman he loved. Growing up with Aldefader had been a quiet existence. She doubted the same could be said of being raised in Edmund's house. It certainly went a long way in explaining Swayn's exuberance. Her house had been very still of late. She now feared it would never have the life it did just over a fortnight ago. Edana was startled to realize that she was envious of what Edmund and Rowena shared.

"Begging your forgiveness, Milord." Rowena gave him an exaggerated bow and then turned to leave.

"Might I have some of that ale?" Edmund called after her.

"Yes, obviously no fault of yours," his wife retorted from the hall.

Edmund chuckled and then turned back to Edana. "What is it you have there?"

Edana told the reeve of Osric's visit and what he'd presented her with. As she was finishing, Rowena returned with a cup of ale.

"Can I get you anything, child? A brew, perhaps?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you, but Wulf might be grateful for some water."

Rowena smiled. "He's already at Astrid's feet gnawing on a large bone."

"So it's not only me you spoil." Edmund gave his wife a wink.

"No, but only you and hounds," Rowena replied dryly and left them again.

Edmund took a long draw from his cup and then balanced it on his knee. "So, Edana, you are a woman of some means."

"So it seems, but," she nodded at her lap, "they make me greatly anxious."

"If it helps, I can take the deed and store it in my casket with my important papers."

"Oh, thank you Edmund. I would be in your debt. But what of the purse? There are so many coins! Couldn't you keep these as well?"

"Surely you'll want some of them on hand."

"Why? I have everything I need. Am I asking too much?"

"No, no, not at all." Edmund leaned forward in his chair. "In fact, I am in your debt and not only for the ale. No amount of money or service is worth the life of my Swayn. If there is anything else you need, just ask. I will be your eager servant."

Edana looked at the goods in her lap. "I know I must sound foolish, but until these things are safely out of my hands, I'll not rest easy. I've been on edge since Osric left."

"He was your protector and his loss has affected us all. It would be my honour to act in his stead."

"Edmund, you have little idea how much this relieves me. I already feel like I can breathe more freely."

"Think nothing of it. And if you ever need that money, don't be afraid to ask. It will be there for you. How much is it? We should know that."

She blinked rapidly. "I haven't counted it."

Edmund laughed. "You really don't want for anything, do you? Anyone else would've added it up right away, and probably spent some of it too. Let us go to the table and see what you have." The reeve hefted himself out of his chair and moved to the table by the windows. Following him, Edana handed Edmund the purse and then stood back while he dumped the coins out.

Though she didn't know her letters, Edana did know her numbers. They were one of the many things Aldefader had taught her. Numbers and measurements were crucial to their treatments. Everything had to be exact. Too much of an herb in a tincture might kill a patient. Foxglove, for example, was useful for those with bad hearts, but even a fraction too much was fatal. On the other hand, ground ivy was effective for keeping infections at bay, but if too little was used a wound would still fill with pus. Yes, numbers Edana knew very well.

Still she hung back and watched as Edmund counted and stacked the pennies in piles of twelve. When he was done he stepped back beside her to survey her wealth. Six full stacks sat on the table and he'd started a seventh.

"You are two pennies short of six and a half shillings. That's a goodly sum," Edmund said soberly.

Edana gasped. "I've never seen so much money before."

"Most people never will. Have you any thoughts about what you want to do with it?"

"Besides giving it to you for safekeeping?" Edana shrugged. "No, but Aldefader told Osric it should be my dowry."

"And a good dowry it would make - bigger than I've heard tell."

"But I know of no one who wants to claim it," she said and briskly scooped the coins back in the purse.

"Many men would marry a horse for such a sum, child, so we'll not tell anyone about its size. But you are wrong to think no one is interested. I know of a few personally and that was without a dowry."

Edana shook her head. "They keep themselves well hidden."

"Or you keep your eyes well shut to them. But if you truly want my counsel, you are best to wait until there's one who opens your eyes. Has anyone done that?"

Avoiding the reeve's gaze, Edana murmured, "Perhaps one."

"And have you opened his?"

Edana shook her head again. "I think not."

"Give it some time, child. I wish I could enjoy your good company longer, but I'm sorry to say I must be on my way. But before I go, give me your belongings and I'll lock them up tightly. And, my dear, please don't feel you have to bring ale and mead if you need my counsel. You are welcome here anytime, even if you just become lonely out in the woods."

"You are most gracious, Edmund. Thank you. Don't let me keep you. I'll just say farewell to Rowena and Astrid and then be on my way."

Edmund paused at the door. "You have nothing else to ask of me?"

Edana shook her head.

The reeve lowered his voice. "I thought you might ask about Dalton."

She tried to keep her voice calm as she spoke. "I already know. Darelle told me he's gone back to Mercia."

Edmund snorted. "Why would you believe an old rumour-monger like Darelle? Yes, he's gone, but surely you must realize that he can't show his face in Mercia again."

As soon as the words left the reeve's mouth, Edana knew he was right. Mylward would've been reported slain. He could hardly make the hero's return. Edana felt relief wash over her.

"Where has he gone?"

"I can't say precisely."

Any joy Edana had been feeling drained out of her, but Edmund continued softly.

"However, I do know that he's planning to come back. He had an errand to complete."

Knowing that Edmund must have read the disappointment on her face made Edana's cheeks grow hot. She spoke quickly to hide her embarrassment.

"I hope it wasn't an arduous journey. It wasn't so long ago that he was near death."

"He borrowed my best horse. Does that allay your fears?"

Edana joined him at the door. "Yes, a horse will make it far less strenuous for him."

"Perhaps when he returns you should attend him to make sure of his good health." Edmund ushered Edana ahead of him.

"That might be wise. Will you let me know when he returns?"

"You have my word."

With that they parted ways. Edmund went along the hallway with Edana's deed and purse while she took the stairs down to bid Rowena and Astrid good-bye. Try as she might, they wouldn't let her leave without a loaf of Astrid's oat and honey bread.

Edana found the journey home passed much faster. Though she hadn't seen Mylward as she hoped, she was happy to learn he was well and would be returning soon. She was anxious to see him again and Edmund left her believing that Mylward might feel the same way.

For the first time since Osric announced his departure, Edana felt some peace. She knew it was only a matter of time until she saw Mylward again. As she walked the path from the road to her house she felt that her life might soon be set to rights.

She and Wulf had almost reached the clearing when the hound growled. She looked down to find his hackles raised.

"What is it?"

Listening for a moment, she heard nothing so took another step forward but the beast snarled again.

"Is someone there?" she asked Wulf. "Hello?" she called loudly.

A voice answered with words she didn't know. Wulf barked at the sound. Edana stepped closer to him and grasped his harness. The hound growled a third time, long and low.

Edana caught her breath when a strange man stepped into view.

Wulf growled as the stranger stepped closer.

The man was taller than her by at least six inches and stockily built. If asked, she would've put his age around thirty years. Unlike the men that Edana knew, this man wore a beard. It was lighter than the reddish-brown shock of hair on his head. He was close enough to see his blue eyes. His navy tunic was worn and the hem needed to be mended. From what Edana could see of his shift, it wasn't in any better shape. His unshod feet were in need of a wash.

Edana held the hound by the harness. "Shh. Sit."

Lowering his head, Wulf snarled again.

Edana spoke sharply. "Wulf, sit!"

The beast obeyed, but barely. Though seated, he looked ready to leap at any moment. The stranger stared at the hound, not budging.

"Begging your forgiveness for my hound. Are you the new earl?"

The man answered angrily with words Edana didn't know. She'd heard many different accents in her life. In Keswick it wasn't unusual to hear Scots and Irish voices. There were even a few of her own Manx. She knew Bronwyn's Welsh lilt and the prevailing northern speech. Being from the Midlands, Mylward and Edmund shared certain inflections. Her ear was accustomed to many tones and cadences. She'd heard this accent before – once, a little more than a month ago in the voices of the soldiers on the road.

He must be the new earl.

Edana fought her desire to let Wulf chase the man from her land. He was an invader and responsible for dispossessing Osric. She doubted he would ever earn the respect she'd given the thane, but his position called for it, warranted or not.

Lowering her head, she murmured, "Milord."

The earl said something else she didn't understand. While Edana had heard words spoken many different ways, she'd always understood them. She found the inability to talk to this man frustrating. Surely people who didn't speak the same language had met before and learned to communicate with each other, but how? Where would one begin?

"At the beginning seems reasonable," she said making the earl furrow his brow. Tapping her fingers on her chest she said, "Edana."

The man cocked his head at her. "Edana?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, I am Edana. Are you Guy de Rouen?"

Shaking his head vigorously, the man said, "No."

At that moment Edana thought learning to communicate with the man might not be so difficult, but then he spoke again. Some of what he said didn't sound like words but more like he had a hair caught at the back of his throat.

Frustrated again she said, "I'm sorry. I don't understand." If he wasn't the new earl, who was he?

Heaving a large sigh, the man looked skyward and rolled his eyes. Then he turned and stalked off in the direction of the path to the great house. While she might not have recognized his words, she knew well enough what his actions meant. She couldn't fault his frustration, but only who it was aimed at. There was little she could do. In truth, she felt it was his place to make himself understood. If the Normans had been invited here, she might feel differently.

Since the man's garments weren't as fine as Osric's, Edana decided she'd been wrong about his identity after all. Perhaps he was a servant who'd been sent to fetch her.

As a gesture of goodwill, Edana decided to take a cask of ale to the great house the following day. She hoped the earl wouldn't be angry that his man hadn't brought Edana with him. She would've made the trip that afternoon, but going to Keswick in the morning meant she had plenty to do that afternoon. If the earl wanted her, he now knew where she was, though why he might need to see her, she couldn't fathom.

Edana's decision to delay her visit was fortuitous. No sooner had she eaten her midday meal when Wulf barked. Suspecting she had company from the earl's household again, she ordered the hound to stay by the hearth. When she got to the door, she discovered she was mistaken.

Running toward her was Yongar, a boy about Swayn's age. He stopped when he saw her and began to speak, but he was so winded she couldn't make out what the lad was saying. Calming him and encouraging him to breathe she finally grasped that his younger brother, Edgar, had fallen from a tree and was badly hurt.

Hurriedly packing everything she needed into a sack, Edana then ran with the boy to his parents' home on the edge of Keswick. As they neared the house, Edana could hear agonized cries. The sound made her gut roil. It was as though she felt the pain as well. She pushed ahead knowing she'd feel relief as soon as she eased the child's pain.

Edana's worst fears were realized when she got inside and discovered a shaft of bone protruding from the boy's shin. Before she went to work she gave Edgar a few drops of tincture to ease his suffering, but no medicine she had could stop this amount of pain. To set the bone she had to open the wound further. Then she stitched it up again and splinted the leg with Edgar screaming all the while. He calmed soon after his leg was immobilized and while she showed his mother how to make the poultice he'd need, the bairn finally slept, probably from simple exhaustion.

Edana left the tincture with Edgar's mother and bade her not to use it more than four times each day. Promising to return the next day, Edana made her way home in the dark.

The next morning Edana decided it might be wise to leave Wulf while she visited the earl after the way he'd behaved the day before. Instead she loaded the ale into the cart and pulled it herself.

When she arrived at the great house no one was outside. The shutters were open, but no curtains had been hung at the windows. No smoke rose out of the chimney. She wondered if the stranger yesterday had been part of the earl's household after all.

Making her way along the side of the house, Edana watched closely for signs of life, but saw none. It wasn't until she rounded the corner at the back of the building that she saw proof that someone was there.

A horse stood inside the pen Osric used for his bull. The animal whinnied when he saw her.

"Good morning to you. Is your master about?" she asked the beast.

The horsed tossed its head, making Edana laugh.

"Aye, but where?"

The door to the kitchen stood open so Edana left her cart and poked her head inside, but saw no one.

"Hello," she called. She got no response, except from the horse, which whinnied again.

Stepping away from the door, Edana faced the horse and put her hands on her hips.

"Perhaps he's out walking his new land," she suggested to herself. "I'm loathe to carry this cask back, but I would like the earl to know who brought him the gift."

While she pondered waiting or dragging the ale home she approached the horse. Tossing its head again, the horse whinnied a third time. She could tell from the animal's eyes that it wasn't frightened, but definitely trying to get her attention. Thinking of her own chickens, Edana knew of only one reason they kicked up a fuss if they weren't scared. Looking more closely, she saw the animal was standing by a trough. Not far away she saw another almost devoid of water.

"All right," she assured the beast. "I'll see what I can scrounge up."

Edana knew where the well was, so easily watered the horse. Inside the wattle and daub barn she found the hay that Osric had put up for the winter. It wasn't something he could haul to Wales. Gathering up an armload, she took it outside and filled the feeding trough through the fence.

While the horse munched, Edana thought again about what to do. During the time she spent feeding and watering the horse she hadn't heard anyone stir inside the house. As she considered waiting another few minutes a voice startled her.

"The ole arse won't like you messing with 'is 'orse."

Edana spun around to an alarming sight. The woman who'd cautioned her was taller and somewhat rounder than she was, but that in itself was not unusual. Like Edana, she wore no wimple but her dark hair was uncombed and even matted in places. Her face was covered in grime. In fact any path of skin Edana could see looked like it hadn't been near water in months. The parts of her shift that weren't stained were dingy grey. The brown tunic she had on bore many holes and a large rent yawned at her armpit where the sleeve had almost ripped completely off.

But what shocked Edana most was the woman's feet.

In spite of wearing slippers, her skin was filthy until it disappeared under her tunic. From the toe jutting out of a hole in her shoes, what they covered up was no cleaner. Edana hoped her disgust didn't show.

"Oh, hello. My name is Edana. I'm looking for the earl. I live just over the hill. I've brought him some ale."

"Well then, you better come inside. 'e likes 'is drink, the ole arse does. I'm called Aggie."

"Well met," Edana said politely. Aggie's appearance was no excuse to be rude. "I think someone from the earl's household came to see me yesterday, but I couldn't understand him," she said as she went to fetch the ale from the cart.

"There's no one but me and the ole arse."

"Are you his housekeeper?" Edana asked over her shoulder.

Her question resulted in a snort. "More akin to bed keeper."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're his wife."

Aggie shrugged. "For now, I suppose. If you don't mind me askin', since you're from around here, maybe you could 'elp us. We don't have a stick of furniture. We been sleeping on 'ay we carried in from the barn."

"Of course. I know craftsmen who can help you. I'll make sure they know you are in need of their wares."

Aggie nodded as they entered the dark kitchen. "Thanking ye. Wait 'ere. I'll wake up the old arse."

Edana was bemused at Aggie's continued use of such an uncomplimentary term. "His name is Guy de Rouen, isn't it?"

"Something like that, but you can't tell from the way 'e says it. 'e don't know what I'm calling him and I'm guessing I wouldn't be flattered by what 'e calls me." With that Aggie disappeared, leaving Edana in the empty kitchen.

It was a room she'd been in often, but it felt completely unfamiliar. The hearth that normally crackled with heat and light crouched empty and cold against the wall. Though the windows were unshuttered, the room still seemed to lay in shadows. The sound of her breathing echoed around her.

After a few moments she heard voices and footfalls above her. Then the stairs creaked, announcing someone's arrival. Edana was shocked when the earl appeared in the doorway. It was indeed the man she'd encountered the previous day, but he only wore a linen shift.

Edana lowered her head and murmured, "Milord."

The earl said something in return, but she didn't lift her head. The only men she'd ever seen in this state of undress were her patients and Aldefader, and then only when he fell ill. She'd certainly never witnessed a person of any rank in such a state.

She pointed to the cask on the floor. "I brought you some ale, Milord, to say well met."

Edana's words were followed by silence until Aggie spoke up.

"I'll get a cup and pour 'im some. It's the only way to explain it."

Aggie ambled away leaving Edana alone in the kitchen with the partially clad earl, wondering where the couple kept their dishes if not the kitchen. She didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't want to look at him or smile, lest he get the wrong idea – like she was pleased to see him half-dressed. Instead, she waited, eyes fixed on the floor, hands folded in front of her, while Guy de Rouen sighed impatiently.

When Aggie finally returned with a flagon, Edana filled the vessel with ale.

"'ere you go, ole arse." Aggie thrust the drink at the earl.

Edana raised her eyes and watched him lift it to his nose to take a precautionary sniff. His nose stayed wrinkled and his lip curled as he brought the cup to his mouth. Then he took a swig and shuddered.

Edana was stunned. No one had ever reacted to her ale that way. Before she could say a word, Aggie stepped forward, grabbed the cup away from the earl and took a large slurp. With wide eyes, Aggie tipped her head back and chugged the remainder of the ale.

"What did ye say your name was? Edna? That was the finest ale I ever drank. Ignore the ole arse. The Frenchmen wouldn't know good ale if they swam in it." Aggie turned to the earl and swatted his arm. "Say merci, you ole fart. This girl brought you good ale and you make like it's swill."

"Eh, merci," he said with a shrug.

"I have mead if he doesn't like the ale."

Aggie eyed her curiously. "That would be nice of you, Edna."

"It's Edana. I used to supply this house with mead and ale. I live just over the hill. I'll bring some the day after tomorrow. 'Til then, Milord." Edana bowed her head briefly before turning to leave the kitchen.

"But you'll send the craftsmen 'ere, right?" Aggie reminded her.

Edana looked over her shoulder at the couple and nodded. "I will."

Rushing to her cart, Edana grabbed the handles and hurried home. The encounter left her bewildered. Not only did she find the couples' appearance shocking, but their manner was odd, too. Could that rude, unkempt man truly be the earl? If he was, why didn't he have furniture and why would he bed such a slovenly woman?

Edana knew it wasn't her place to question. Once she'd kept her promise, she hoped to interact with them as little as possible. When she went to check on her patient in the afternoon, she would mention the need for craftsmen and any and all wares at the great house. That way when she went back with the mead, there was a chance someone else would be there. She didn't want to feel the discomfort of being alone with the strange couple again.

After seeing that the injured boy was doing well for someone with a broken leg, she made her way to the town square to spread the word about craftsmen being needed at the great house. She spoke to the mason's wife and the carpenter's. Both the smithy and potter's wives were there too. She knew they'd pass the news to their husbands. Folks hereabouts would be more than happy to make a penny or two off the new earl.

The following day Edana delayed her visit to the great house. She dreaded catching the peculiar couple alone. When she finally talked herself into fulfilling her promise the place looked alive again. She was even greeted by a housekeeper when she pulled the cart up to the kitchen door.

The girl who'd taken the position was called Murwith. Edana knew her to be the sister of Edmund's scullery maid. She was newly married but still quite young. As far as Edana knew, she hadn't worked anywhere but her mother's kitchen. Working at the great house would be a huge undertaking, but she seemed to be enjoying the test. Her eyes were alight, her cheeks pink and she wore a bright smile.

"Oh, bless your heart, Edana," the girl said breathlessly when she saw the mead. "I've heard of bare cupboards but I thought it was a tall tale. Bare cupboards – no cupboards, in truth. Wilfred built me a table before building them a bedframe." Then Murwith leaned closer to Edana. "She's a sight, isn't she? Can you believe he brought a camp follower into Osric's house?"

"What's a camp follower?"

Murwith moved still closer. "She followed the soldiers around when they went to battle and bedded them – for coins!"

Edana stumbled back in shock. "She trailed after the Normans?"

"Not just her. I suspect it was our boys she followed. She likely went with a Norman when the rebellion failed." The housekeeper kept her voice low.

Edana had no idea such women existed. She knew of prostitutes, of course, but the women Murwith described seemed vile. Her thoughts went to Mylward. Had he met women like Aggie? Had he lain with one? Not wanting the young woman to see her disquiet she changed the subject.

"It certainly looks like you have your work cut out for you."

"I know! Imagine setting up a household from scratch. It's like a dream. And I have money to spend." She pulled a purse out of her tunic pocket. "But I'm so busy, I can't get to town to buy anything."

"Tell Wilfred. I'm sure he could send someone tomorrow."

"I have, but what about today? Do you have anything else you could spare? I can pay you handsomely. A chicken maybe? Some eggs? I don't know." Murwith sighed helplessly.

"I have a hen you could stew and a dozen chicks I was going to sell on market day. You could start your own flock. I can spare a bit of honey, barley, and onions. I have preserves and some flour. Do you need candles or soap?"

"I need all of it! I'll give you half a shilling for the lot if you'll bring it today." Murwith looked at Edana hopefully.

"How big is that purse?" Edana asked in surprise.

"It's more money than I've ever seen. Will you?"

Edana nodded. "I will, but then I'll have nothing to spare. You'll have to go to town or have someone come here."

Murwith assured her she would ask for no more and clapped excitedly as Edana left with her cart. In less than an hour she returned, this time with Wulf pulling the bulging load.

"Look at everything you've brought!" Murwith squealed when she saw the cart. "Cabbages, oatmeal and, what is this - sourdough starter? Half a shilling isn't enough now. Take another penny." Murwith reached for her purse.

Edana shook her head. "You have no idea how long this money will have to last you. Best not be frivolous with it."

Murwith waved off Edana's concern. "I've barely made a dent in it, but thank you for your good advice."

"Did Aggie explain that you'd be paying the craftsmen out of that money and any other wages that are due, including your own?"

Murwith's eyes grew large.

"Here." Edana gave her back three pennies. "This is more than fair for what I brought. Just remember to haggle with everyone. Promise peddlers your continued business if they knock a penny off their price. This winter will be hard since you have no gardens. Check what crops Bronwyn left behind. There may be a small harvest there yet. Don't forget that the best housekeeper is a frugal one."

"Thank you, Edana! Thank you. How do you know so much?"

"I've spent a great deal of time in the kitchens of the larger homes in Keswick. I've seen many housekeepers at work. They are the ones who paid me and I saw them barter with every peddler who came to their doors."

Murwith was still shouting her thanks when Edana reached the woods. She hoped the young girl understood what Edana had said and wouldn't lose her place for being a wastrel.

The following morning Edana's mood was lightened by the knowledge that Mylward would soon be returning. Butterflies rose in her stomach at the thought. Smiling to herself, she went about her chores with a light heart. She sang to her chickens, though they didn't seem to appreciate the effort. As she walked to fetch water from the well she remembered how she used to skip with the buckets as a girl. She felt so carefree she almost indulged in that childish habit, but instead she swung the buckets happily.

While she prepared her midday meal, she couldn't help prattling on to Wulf about Mylward's homecoming. His ears twitched and he let out a loud bark leading her to think he was as excited about Mylward's return as she was. When he barked a second time, she soberly realized someone was approaching the house.

Once on the porch she heard footsteps coming from the path that led to the great house. Her first thought was that Murwith needed more advice, but then she realized two people approached. Were the earl and Aggie paying a visit?

Descending the stairs quickly, Edana then walked to the east end of the house. As she rounded the corner she saw she'd been half right. It wasn't Aggie accompanying the earl. It was Augustine.

"Father, I'm surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?"

"It's good to see you, Edana. I'm here on behalf of the new earl, Guy de Rouen."

"We've met," she said and lowered her head. "Milord."

Edana barely recognized the earl. He'd bathed and was wearing fine garments. His deep red woolen tunic was embroidered with golden thread at the cuffs and collar. The shift beneath was so white it gleamed in the sun. The leather of his slippers had been dyed to match his tunic. He looked more like a man befitting his station.

"Yes, and he says you've been very generous helping him set up his new household and he thanks you." Augustine gave her a small nod.

Edana bobbed her head. "You're most welcome, Milord."

"But that's not what brings us here today. He has a question for you. Am I right that you were a tenant of Osric?"

Edana shook her head. "No, Father, I own this land."

Augustine turned and spoke to the earl in words Edana didn't know. It wasn't the same accent the earl normally spoke with. Edana stood and waited while the men conversed, unsure of what was happening. She understood that if Guy thought her a tenant, he'd be looking for his rents, but since she'd explained that she owned the land, she didn't know what there was to discuss. Finally Augustine turned toward her.

"Do you have a deed for this land?"

"I do."

"May I see it?"

Edana grew concerned. Why was she being asked to prove that she owned the land? "It's with Edmund for safekeeping. But why do you need to see it?"

Edana felt her ire rise when the priest adopted a haughty expression. "I want to ensure it's in your name."

"It is. Osric had it transferred to me when my grandfather died."

"Then we have a problem, my child."

Edana crossed her arms over her chest. "Why would there be a problem?"

"This may be difficult for you to grasp, but when the Normans invaded Anglia, they overturned the English laws. The law of the land is now Norman."

Edana fought not to roll her eyes at Augustine. "I understand that. I still don't see why there is any difficulty regarding my land."

"Ah, therein lies the problem. Under Norman law women aren't allowed to own land."

End chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter nine

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Mylward POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Mylward had been on the road for twelve days. Since he started the trip back to Keswick he'd become less certain of Edana's feelings for him. His mood had reached a low point. Unlike his stay at Edmund's house, this journey left him with nothing but time to think. His confidence was helped briefly by Edmund's final words to him but the reeve hadn't said anything about the healer returning Dalton's feelings. To his knowledge, Edmund hadn't seen Edana during Mylward's sojourn in Keswick. How could he know anything about her mind?

By his return, a month would have passed since Mylward last saw Edana. Perhaps he should have been less concerned about keeping his secret and more honest about his feelings. For all he knew a handsome young farmer would sweep her off her feet before he got back.

He felt all he had left in the world was Edana. Without her he would have nothing. He'd lost so much already. He'd left Tamworth with a vision of saving his country forefront in his mind. Not only did he fail in his quest, but all of his friends had fallen in the attempt. They paid with their lives, but so, in fact, had he. He was dead to his family. He didn't even have his name. Yes, Edmund was helping him forge a new life, but without Edana by his side, he wasn't sure it was a life he wanted.

Yet both Edana and Edmund said his life had been spared for a reason. He wished he shared their faith. When he left to fight the Normans, he'd been very passionate about what lay ahead. War stole that fervor from him. It didn't take a sword to destroy a man. But as he rode on with these thoughts swirling in his head, he realized if he surrendered to this mood it would award the Normans a second victory over him. That was something he would not let happen.

Straightening his back, Mylward sat tall on Gestum. He would not waste this second chance he'd been given. When he returned he would take charge of his life. He'd tell Edana how he felt. Edmund was the most intelligent man Mylward knew and he thought Mylward should ask for Edana's hand. Why question a wise man's advice? Without Edmund's plan to buy the mill on the Greta, he would have nothing to offer Edana. Perhaps his life had been spared because this was his true path.

In spite of his initial worries, he'd had no trouble finding the buried purse. Opting to camp by the yew, he waited until darkness fell to dig it up. As soon as it was out of the ground, he stashed it deep into his pack. This was no place to count money.

There were more people on the road than he remembered from his youth. Travelling from Tamworth to Birmingham, Mylward and his fader might have encountered four other souls each day. On this journey, he'd met fellow travelers at least once every hour. It was obvious that some were hauling everything they owned.

One family was heading south because their holding west of Durham had been salted by William's men and was now waste. Mylward wondered how many families were dispossessed because of the invasion and ensuing rebellion. Would Anglia have fared better if her people hadn't fought back? Did folks in the area resent the insurgents?

When he suggested that to another wanderer on the road in search of work, he was vehemently assured that all those who fought to save Anglia from the Normans would be heroes in the hearts of the people for years to come. Mylward thought it might come to blows until he explained that he completely agreed. It was the toll on people's lives that made him question. When they parted ways he overheard the traveler still grumbling about Mylward's lack of respect for the men who had fought the Normans.

It bolstered Mylward's spirits to know he was thought of as a hero even if he'd never be able to accept any accolades.

It was still the early morning when Mylward was startled by a man riding south at an alarming rate. Keeping Gestum to the left side of the road, he prayed it wasn't a Norman soldier who'd tracked him down. He was prepared to fight, but he had enough blood on his hands to last a lifetime. To his dismay, the rider slowed as he approached.

As the man's face became clear, Mylward's fears dissolved into relief, then confusion and finally worry. The mounted man was Ulgar, Edmund's second son.

Pulling on the reins, Ulgar slowed his horse, first dropping to a trot and then closing the last few paces between them at a walk. Both rider and horse were breathing hard.

"Ulgar, what's happened?

"You must hurry back. The new earl has confiscated Edana's land and it is being auctioned off midmorning tomorrow!"

Mylward drew a sharp breath. "How can he do that? Can't she prove she owns it?"

Ulgar sighed. "She has a deed, but it doesn't matter. The Normans don't let women own land."

Mylward growled. "Barbarians. I don't understand why you've rushed here. Can't your fader buy the land? I'm sure I have enough to cover the cost."

Shaking his head, the younger man said, "As Reeve of Keswick, he has to run the auction. But you know my fader - he has a plan. Two, in fact, in case this one falls short." Reaching into the horse's pack, Ulgar retrieved a roll of parchment and gave it to Mylward. "This document speaks for itself."

As he read, Mylward's eyes grew wide. "What does Edana think of this?"

The reeve's son shrugged. "I don't know. I had to leave immediately to fetch you. If you're going to get there in time you'll have to trade out your mount for a fresh one every ten miles along the way. The inns here in the north keep good stables. You should be given a stout horse each time."

Mylward shook his head. "Gestum is your fader's best horse. How can I trade him for some nag an innkeeper will foist on me?"

Ulgar held up his hands as if to stop Mylward's concern. "Let us head north while I explain. We have little time to be idle." Ulgar turned his horse around and Mylward swung Gestum in along side him while the reeve's son continued speaking. "There's an inn about ten miles north of us, The Ram's Head. Stop there and swap Gestum out. Tell the innkeeper I'll be along in a few hours for him. I'll ride Gestum back to Keswick." Reaching into the pack again, Ulgar pulled out a purse. "This should be more than enough for a good horse in place of Gestum. Don't be surprised if some of the innkeepers want their palms silvered on top of the trade. You'll need to make six stops between here and Keswick. Fader gave you enough to ensure you won't have to waste time haggling."

As he took the pouch of coins Mylward looked at Ulgar in amazement. "Why does Edmund keep helping me? What is the benefit for him?"

A knowing smile formed on the young man's lips. "Well, Dalton" - he said the name with some emphasis - "other than wanting to be on the side of the angels, Fader regrets that he wasn't able to help in the rebellion. By the time the news reached Keswick, the fighting was over. He also despises anyone who takes things by force. He sees it as no better than theft. 'Til his dying day he'll do whatever he can to undermine the Normans, whether it be keeping money out of their pockets or harbouring their enemies. And he's not alone in his beliefs."

Ulgar's words filled Mylward with the first sense of satisfaction he'd felt since he fled the failed rebellion in York with his compatriots.

Mylward lowered his head. "I don't know that I'm worthy of these rewards. I know the money can be repaid, but I don't know that I'll ever be able to repay the gesture."

"Ah, but Dalton, the debt is ours and our repayment has only begun. What can't be done with public fanfare must be carried out with secret adulation. Ours is a quiet revolt."

Mylward sat silently as he processed what Ulgar said. When the significance sank in he grew leery. "How many know?"

"Never fear, my fader trusts few. In fact, he took much abuse from Mader for not warning her of his nephew's impending arrival. He claimed it slipped his mind." Ulgar winked. "But now is not the time to fret about such things. Off with you!"

"Is there yet time? Can the ride be done in a day?" Mylward stashed the parchment and coins in his pack.

"Yes, but with little time to spare. I wish you Godspeed."

"Thank you, Ulgar. 'Til we meet in Keswick." Mylward leaned toward the younger man to shake his hand. Then gathering up the reins, he said to Gestum, "It's time to see what you're made of." Mylward chirruped to the horse.

He easily brought Gestum to a full gallop. He was lucky Edmund had given him a worthy horse. A lesser animal wouldn't make ten miles in good time. Using the distance markers on the roadside, Mylward only ran him for a mile then dropped him into a trot again and then a walk. When the horse had its breath, he began the cycle again. Mylward had no intention of running the horse to death and at this speed, he'd more than doubled his previous pace. If he got a good horse at every inn he might make it in time, but he'd have to ride through the night.

Stopping every ten miles to change out horses became frustrating. Some of the innkeepers were slow and resisted straight swaps as Ulgar had warned they might. They could see Mylward's hurry and obviously suspected he wouldn't quibble. They were right. Mylward paid whatever they asked.

When the sun sank it was too dangerous to travel at any speed. The horse could step into an unseen hole and break its leg. It was safer for both man and beast to have the horse walk in the dark. The swaying gait of the animal rocked Mylward to sleep many times, but he woke with a start when he began to slip from his perch.

As soon as the sun lit the road again, Mylward took the horse to a canter and ran him to the next inn.

"How far is Keswick?" Mylward asked as the innkeeper helped him move his tack to the new mount.

"You're in Penrith. It's a good twenty miles. You trying to make the auction?" The man looked at him with some interest.

"I am."

The man's expression became doubtful. "Well, good luck to you. I know a few who've gone with their purses. Rumour has it the land might go cheap. Of course, those that went gave themselves plenty of time."

Mylward swung onto the fresh horse. "I'll make it." He did his best to sound confident, but the innkeeper looked unconvinced.

As he rode the next ten miles Mylward imagined himself in a race with the sun, but the yellow orb seemed to rise faster in the sky than it ever had before. When he reached the Troutbeck Inn he knew he only had ten miles to go, but he feared the sun would win this race.

The innkeeper gave him a strong horse and Mylward pushed the beast harder than he'd ever pushed any horse. As the animal's hooves pounded the road, both rider and beast fought for air. Mylward's legs ached from gripping the horse's sides. Worse than his legs, a sharp pain stabbed at his chest each time he drew a breath, but he didn't slow their pace.

Mylward's racing heart skipped a beat when they passed the trail to Edana's house. As they galloped by the mill, he knew they were close. The horse tried to slow, but with heels to the animal's ribs, Mylward kept it running. The beast was frothing at the mouth and Mylward felt as though he couldn't suck enough wind into his lungs. Soon houses were passing at the edge of his vision and he knew they were seconds away.

He yelled at the pitch of his voice. "Stop!"

A crowd was gathered around the square. Someone stood on a platform. Heads turned toward the commotion he created.

Pulling up on the reins, he shouted again. "Stay the auction."

While the horse slowed, Mylward turned around to pull the parchment from his pack. When it was in his hand he slid to the ground before the horse stopped. Everyone in the square was looking at him.

He held the document aloft as he took his first step. When his foot came down, his leg wobbled.

"Halt the auction." The words came out of his mouth more quietly than he intended.

Mylward blinked his eyes hard. Was that Edmund on the dais?

"Eam?"

Black spots swam in front of his eyes as he took his second step. "I have –"

A strange noise assaulted his ears. It was like an undulating moan that seemed to emanate from the crowd. Then the people surged - first forward, then backward.

Mylward took another step. "I have a –"

The heaving crowd parted and an angel in blue floated toward him. No, no, it was Edana. She was calling to him. His arm had fallen to his side. He tried to thrust it into the air again, but the parchment was too heavy.

When he opened his mouth to speak he had to fight for each word. "I have a document-"

Before he could finish, his world went black.

* * *

Mylward opened his eyes to find himself in a familiar room. He knew the sconces, the curtains and the tapestry on the wall. He was in Edmund's house, in the same bed chamber he'd used during his stay. For a moment confusion set in. He remembered riding up to the square and trying to stop the auction. Had he missed his chance?

Sitting bolt upright, he pushed the covers aside to leave the bed when he heard a familiar voice.

"You aren't fit to be on your feet yet. Lie down."

"Edana?" He turned toward her voice.

She was getting up from a chair in the corner of the room. He watched as she walked to the bedside and helped him settle against the pillows.

She smiled at him. "Welcome home."

As she tucked the blankets around his chest, he searched her face. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. She looked happier than he'd ever seen her. He reached for her arm.

"The auction. Did I make it in time?"

Edana pushed his arm to the bed. "Shh. Yes, in plenty of time. Edmund was just beginning. I've never seen an auction so slow in starting." She smiled broadly at him. "And imagine my surprise to find out that I'm betrothed."

"Edmund didn't tell you about the plan?" Mylward's voice rose.

"No, he told me afterwards. He wasn't sure you'd make it."

Mylward looked into her eyes. He was unsure of what he saw there. She didn't seem angry in the least, but he'd always found her feelings difficult to read.

He took a breath and said, "We have much to discuss."

She touched his arm. "There's plenty of time for talking. You need to rest after riding that horse so vigorously."

The gentleness of her demeanor encouraged him. "I've already waited too long. We need to talk now." He tried to push himself to a sitting position.

Edana put her hand on his shoulder. "All right, but only if you'll lie still."

Nodding, he patted the bed beside him. "Please sit."

She sat as requested, hands folded in her lap.

"So?" He searched her face.

She raised both eyebrows at him.

He hoped she'd have something to say about their engagement, but she gave him nothing. "Don't you have anything to say?"

"About what?" she asked placidly.

He was stunned. "About what? About our betrothal. Do you want to marry me?"

Her voice remained calm. "Are you asking for my hand?"

"I know we never talked about this and it seems like you aren't being given a choice, but please believe me when I say that I didn't rush back here to save your land. It's true that I didn't want it to fall into Norman hands or for William to profit from its sale. I hate that you have no say over your own land, but I rushed back for you – for us. Was I being presumptuous?"

"I'm glad you got back in time to save my holding. It would've been a shame to lose it and then wed."

"Yes, it – what? Are you saying I wasn't being overconfident?"

Her countenance betrayed nothing. "Are you saying that you're asking for my hand?"

"Yes, woman! That's what I'm saying. Will you marry me?"

"Thank you for asking. It's pleasant to be asked rather than told."

Closing his eyes, Mylward shook his head. When he opened them he discovered her wearing an amused smile. Reaching out, he took hold of her hand.

"I wouldn't have gone through with the marriage if you didn't want this too – wait. Do you? You still haven't answered my question."

Edana squeezed his hand and spoke softly. "Yes, Mylward, I do. But I wanted to be sure of your motives."

"I must be Dalton, henceforth." He looked into Edana's eyes. She studied his carefully, then closed her lids and dropped her chin briefly. When she met his gaze again he knew she understood that they must be vigilant.

He continued on to tease her. "Did you think I was only interested in your land?"

Frowning, she shook her head. "No, not at all. I thought it might be out of a misplaced sense of gratitude after

I –" She stopped speaking and looked at her hands.

"You saved my life. It's all right to say it. How can I not be grateful for that? But other feelings surpassed gratitude shortly after I woke in your house."

With her free hand, she stroked the top of his. "You knew so soon?"

He nodded.

"I didn't know 'til Augustine dragged you away."

He was surprised to hear a hitch in her voice. He squeezed her hand gently.

"That cagey priest knew what he was doing. I wanted you, and a young lad like Swayn wouldn't have stopped me."

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Would I have had a say in the matter?"

He grinned. "Of course, but my charms are difficult to refuse."

She laughed. "Did you hit your head when you fell? You've lost your senses."

A robust voice interrupted them. "What's this laughing I hear?"

"Just me and my bride-to-be, Eam," Mylward called.

Edmund stepped into the room, red-cheeked and smiling.

He cleared his throat. "You are in very close quarters for two who are yet unmarried. Pray the priest doesn't catch you. He's on his way. Rowena is keeping him talking."

Mylward tugged at her hand. "Then you'd better kiss me quickly."

"Dalton!"

"Hurry, Edana. We don't have much time."

"Hurry, girl!" Edmund urged. "I'll keep watch."

Edana's cheeks were crimson as she leaned closer. Mylward slid his hand under her red curls and then to the back of her neck. When her soft lips brushed his, he thought his heart would escape his chest. Opening his mouth slightly, he ran his tongue over her lips. He felt her body tremble at the contact. Then her tongue touched his.

Edmund's voice made them jump apart. "Augustine, my good man."

When Mylward opened his eyes he espied a bloom covering Edana's skin from her forehead to where it disappeared under her tunic. He longed to see how far that flush reached. He kept hold of her hand as she stood.

"I must go." Her voice sounded choked.

"When will you be back?"

"I have another patient to see, but Edmund has given me a room here so I can keep watch over you. I'll check on you later. Be sure you get more rest." With that, Edana ducked her head and hurried past Edmund.

The reeve stepped back into the room with the priest at his heels.

"Our friend is such a compassionate cleric he felt he must check your welfare." Edmund smiled but Mylward could see a smirk in his eyes.

Mylward lowered his chin close to his chest to hide his grin. "How very thoughtful of you."

"I do as the good Lord bids," the priest said in a quiet voice. "You seem to be recovering."

"Yes, Edana says my ride back was too strenuous so soon after the fall from my horse."

"I see. And how did you know to rush back for the auction?"

"I saw the bills. They were posted as far away as Penrith." Mylward kept his voice even, but the priest's suspicions made him uneasy.

"There was one other thing I found curious." Augustine held Mylward's gaze.

"Oh?" Mylward widened his eyes with feigned interest.

"Yes, I was very surprised to learn of your betrothal to Edana. She said nothing of it when I visited with the earl regarding her land." The priest spoke in a tone a parent might use when they'd caught a child in a lie.

"Ah," Edmund interjected. "That's because she didn't know. Osric and I arranged this marriage; me on behalf of my nephew and Osric on behalf of Edana. Dalton didn't realize it, but that was the reason for his visit. My sister sought my help in finding her second son a wife and a situation. Of course we didn't know the fool would be thrown from his horse and meet Edana that way. It was almost as though God Himself blessed the union."

"And Osric didn't consult Edana about the match?" Augustine sounded unconvinced.

"A woman isn't asked about such things, Father, she's told," Edmund explained in a patient tone. "Part of the arrangement I had with Osric was that Dalton should have the means to support Edana and I was on the lookout for an acreage. That was slowed by his fall. Since my sister married a farmer, I didn't know that my nephew had apprenticed as a miller. When I found that out, Bertram's mill was the obvious choice for him. But he had to go back to Mercia to get the money he needed."

Augustine narrowed his eyes at the reeve. "Why didn't they send him with the money in the first place?"

"They did!" Mylward spoke up. "But my horse ran off with it. Remember?"

The priest looked at Mylward and then Edmund. Mylward sensed the cleric was searching for another question, but couldn't come up with one.

"Yes, you are fortunate to have a wealthy family, maeg," Edmund continued.

Augustine cocked his head. "It's odd, don't you think, that your horse and money were never found."

Mylward laughed. "I don't doubt they were found, Father. With the number of outlaws about these days, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that my horse was found standing by my side. There are men who would kill for less. I was lucky to be left to die."

The priest nodded slowly. "You do seem to be blessed."

Edmund brought a hand to his chest. "Yes, as though it was God's wish. Do you have any other concerns for Dalton's health?"

Augustine looked at Edmund sharply for a moment but said no.

"Very well, then I think he needs his rest. Perhaps you could come by another day if you have further questions about his welfare. Do you know the way out?"

Looking like he'd been reprimanded, the cleric bobbed his head, then turned and left the room. Edmund poked his head into the hall to watch him leave. Mylward was surprised at the reeve's treatment of the priest. For all intents and purposes he'd told the man to mind his own business. Surely Edmund realized that priests considered all that went on around them their business.

When his host turned back, Mylward looked at him in amazement. "A woman is not asked, she's told? Don't let Edana hear you say that."

Edmund chortled. "Nor Rowena. Be sure you tell your bride-to-be about this conversation. We don't want her hearing it from Augustine first."

Mylward laughed. "I'll have to make sure she understands it was for his benefit."

"For your own happiness, I recommend it. I do think you need your rest though, maeg." Edmund turned to leave the room.

"Wait, Eam, I have a few questions first. I understand from what Augustine said that the new earl has arrived."

Nodding, Edmund moved toward Mylward. "Not long after you left. I haven't met the man but Edana doesn't speak highly of him."

Mylward snorted. "I don't expect she would. What reports do you hear? How many men does he have with him?"

Edmund shook his head. "None."

"None! In Durham, Robert de Comines was given five hundred. York was given more. Why would William install no one here?"

"Well, maeg, I'll tell you what I think the reason is, but it isn't a short story." Edmund took the chair Edana had been sitting on and placed it by the bed. When he was seated, he took a deep breath. "William has a limited number of men to draw on. He can't empty Normandy to fortify Anglia. There are those who think he's already spread himself too thin and left Normandy vulnerable. After taking back Durham and York he had to refill those garrisons. On top of that, I hear from the Reeve of Penrith that William is trying to push into Scotland and Wales. He needs men to do that."

Mylward nodded briskly. "That makes sense. But then why dispossess Osric in the first place?"

"Osric's holding was never strategic. It's small and not defensible aside from the terrain. There's no keep, battlements or ramparts. It's simply a large farm and a money-maker for the Crown. If I read William's strategy correctly, Osric was ousted to show us who's in charge. William may not have the men to strengthen his hold on this corner of Anglia, but he has the power to banish whomever he sees fit."

Mylward rubbed his chin. "Why put on a show of force here?"

Edmund chuckled. "I know Keswick doesn't seem like it could have any role to play, but if William succeeds in Scotland, this area will prove very useful. Penrith may be better suited for launching attacks, but once ensconced, all of the goods needed to support a new garrison will be sent through here. Our links to the sea have made us prosperous."

Mylward let his hand fall to his lap. "And having his own man here, William won't have to worry about his goods making it through."

Edmund patted the younger man's knee. "Precisely."

"So the new earl is a man of some import?"

Edmund looked doubtful. "He seems to be a very minor player. No one I've spoken to knows who he is. He's not from an important family. There have been rumours he was merely a soldier and this is a reward for some success he earned."

Mylward drew a long breath. His lungs still burned from the morning's exertion and the effort made him cough. When he had his breath back he posed the question he feared the answer to. "He played a part in quashing the rebellion?"

"No one I've spoken to knows for sure, but that is the thinking."

Mylward gnawed at his lip.

Edmund seemed unconcerned. "As I said, Dalton, I'm of the opinion that this is a show of power and a small one at that. According to the earl's housekeeper, all he's brought with him are his chainmail and sword, his horse and a camp follower."

Mylward felt his nose wrinkle.

Edmund laughed. "Do you see what I mean, maeg? You have nothing to fear. Everything has fallen into place so well, I'm beginning to believe our story."

"Like my life was spared for a reason." Mylward's voice was quiet.

Edmund, too, became serious. "It does seem so."

"I don't know, Eam," Mylward spoke slowly. "I don't want to argue with you but I think if God chose to interfere in the lives of men, it would be for something more important than running a mill."

"True, but maybe this is just the beginning of His plan. I say leave deciphering of God's schemes to the clerics. You and I only need worry about leading good lives and taking care of the people around us. I doubt God expects more. I do know that Edana wants you to rest, so let me leave you in peace." The big man stood and picked up his chair.

"Edmund, thank you for-"

"Shh. You can thank me by getting well. Have you ever been around women preparing for a marriage? This wedding will be the fifth under this roof. What a blessing!" The horror on Edmund's face as he departed made Mylward laugh.

Mylward had no trouble fulfilling Edana's wish. Riding a horse at a normal pace during his journey had made him ready for a good night's rest. The sixty miles he'd covered in less than a day left him utterly spent.

When he next woke the room was filled with flickering shadows created by the small fire in the hearth. After a much needed trip to the feltun, Mylward returned to bed to eat the food Edana brought. As Edmund had, she pulled the chair close to his bedside.

"You are already looking much better," she said as he chewed a large mouthful of stew. "Your appetite is obviously thriving."

"Asking for your hand is exhausting work." He mumbled around his mouthful of stew and bread.

"I see." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Did you talk to Edmund about the new earl?"

He swallowed his food before he answered. "Yes. Edmund says you met him." He dug his spoon into the bowl for more stew and then lifted it towards his mouth.

"I did. And the woman he brought with him. I'm told she's a camp follower." Edana looked into his eyes as she spoke.

The spoonful of stew hovered in front of Mylward's mouth as he met her intense stare. It was as though her eyes burned through him and into his soul. Blinking, he lowered his gaze and set the spoon back into the dish.

He gnawed on his lip for a moment. "And someone explained to you what that is?"

"Yes."

When he chanced another look at Edana, he found that the intensity in her eyes had not diminished. Mylward felt like his heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach. He could no longer bear her scrutiny, instead preferring to look away.

Edana broke the silence in the room with a whisper. "Have you lain with a camp follower?"

End chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter ten

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Mylward POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

* * *

Mylward had prayed that he'd never have to think of camp followers again, but it was not to be. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes, He didn't want to see Edana's face when he told his story, but she deserved the truth.

"As I left Mercia, I imagined war to be glorious. The sun shone on green fields and glinted off my shining sword. Yes, our enemies fell, but in my mind's eye, they were seemingly undamaged. If I'd known the true face of combat I'd still be snug in my father's mill in Tamworth. I saw horrors no one should ever witness. If someone had tried to warn me about the reality of war, I wouldn't have believed them. So yes, I sought comfort in ways I never have before and never will again." Afraid to look at her, he opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on his lap.

"But the woman I met –"

He glanced at her briefly, but looked away when he found her still intent on him. "I know you can't fathom this, Edana, but no matter how much of a slattern that woman seems, any time with her would have been better than the sheer evil of the battlefield."

The room fell silent. The sounds of the town trickled in through the window. Chancing another peek at Edana, Mylward found her eyes fixed on the floor while she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

He'd never wanted her to learn of those past encounters. Now he could only hope that she'd forgive him.

When she raised her eyes Mylward was surprised not to see anger, or disappointment or even revulsion. He didn't know what to make of it. When she stood up, he was sure his revelation was more than she could bear. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see her leave the room. His eyes popped open when he felt her sit on the bed.

Picking up his hand, she stroked it tenderly and looked into his eyes. The intensity in hers had waned, though he thought he saw a much softer emotion there. Not being able to stand the silence any longer he finally blurted out, "Will you forgive me?"

"I don't know that I'll ever be able to understand what it must've been like if such women were a comfort…"

"I'm not sure it can be explained. It wasn't how they looked. I wasn't in love or even lusting – it was a way to forget. Like the drink that other men chose, it was a way not to think about all the things I'd seen or worry about what might, and almost did, befall me."

Edana's tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "Rowena says I shouldn't concern myself with things you might have done before we met."

"You told Rowena?" His voice rose. "She knows nothing about –"

She raised her hand to stop him. "No, no. I didn't mention camp followers. I asked about girls you might have known in Mercia."

"And she told you not to worry?"

"She said that men are unlike women. They have different needs and a handsome man like you would've had many conquests. She said it's what happens now that matters."

Mylward couldn't help a small smile. "I think she might be as wise as her husband." To his dismay, Edana's countenance didn't brighten.

"There is another thing that worries me after seeing that woman."

Mylward frowned. "What?"

"The earl's wife was so unclean! And you laid with other women like her. I've treated men with –"

He shook his head vigorously. "I didn't catch the burning. I know some who did."

She sighed. "I hoped you hadn't. I didn't see signs of it when I first looked after you. But sometimes the only symptom is the burning. The treatment is horribly painful-"

Mylward winced and squinted at her. "I know how it's cured."

"There is one more question I have." Edana's tone was solemn.

Mylward hoped they were through talking of unpleasantness. "What is it?"

"You will be true to me when we marry?"

He felt relief wash over him. She was still going to marry him. "Edana, until I met you I didn't think I could be true to any woman."

She cocked her head at him. "Why me?"

"I don't know. Why did you choose me? Can you explain it or do you just know?"

To his delight a smile played at her lips. "Maybe it's those charms you spoke of."

Reaching for her hand, he smiled at her. "Come here and let us be certain."

When Edana leaned in, Mylward pulled her close and kissed her. The shyness of their earlier kiss had fled and their mouths only parted for breath. Holding her in a tight embrace, he whispered his question again. "Do you forgive me?"

Edana rested her head on his shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive, but I don't like to think of you kissing a woman like –"

"Hold on. I never said I kissed them."

Edana leaned back to look at him, her brows furrowed.

He reached up to stroke her cheek. "There were no soft kisses or gentle caresses, my love. It was only about one thing."

"But you said it was for comfort."

"The same comfort found in a cup of ale – not in the sweet devotion of lovers." He cupped her cheek with his palm.

Leaning into his hand, she sighed. "I will never understand."

Sliding his hand into her hair, Mylward sat up and pressed his lips to her forehead. "And I don't want you to. In order to understand, you'd have to live it. I want to keep you from the evils of this world, not have you know them."

"Then let us never speak of it again. Besides, Dalton of Mercia is a miller, he knows nothing of battles save fireside stories."

Mylward kissed the tip of her nose. "He knows the love of a beautiful woman."

Edana eyes drifted closed. "I am a woman and I do love you."

He felt Edana's breath tickle his lips. "And you are very beautiful but I fear I may not deserve your love."

"Oh, but you do." She placed tender busses on his mouth. "You do."

As Edana graced him with her affections, Mylward ran his hand along her side. When he felt the soft curve of her breast, he squeezed it gently. Edana drew a quick breath and pressed herself against his hand.

Rowena's voice at the door made them both jump. "It's good there is a blanket between you."

Edana backed away from her betrothed.

"And also stew." The older woman nodded to the bowl on Mylward's lap. "You must let the man eat, Edana. The wedding is but a week away. We need Dalton hale and hardy."

"I'm sorry, Rowena," Edana murmured, eyes downcast.

The lady of the house laughed merrily. "Sorry? I was jesting. You were doing nothing to be ashamed of. I'm happy to see you sharing a kiss. Arranged marriages don't always work out so well." Rowena drew the chair closer to the bed. "Now let us talk of the wedding."

Edana turned to face their hostess but Mylward held up his hand.

"Before I am lost in wedding details could I please ask a few questions?"

Both women looked at him.

"I know this is something I should've asked my uncle, but there has been so much to discuss. Did he find the money in my pack to pay Bertram?"

Rowena smiled. "Ah, yes. While Edana was seeing to your health, my husband saw to your mill."

Mylward took Edana's hand and squeezed it. "I'm a fortunate man."

"Did you have another question, Dalton?" Rowena asked brightly.

"Yes, when Edana and I are wed, we'll be living at her house. Am I correct?"

Rowena nodded. "Yes, but it's your house now."

He took a deep breath, far more easily than he had but a few hours prior. "Until we are wed, I don't consider it such."

"Aye, but the Normans do, thanks be to God. Though Edmund had arranged for our eldest to buy it with Edana's money, in case you didn't make it back with Osric's promissory note in time."

Mylward turned slowly to look at his betrothed. "Edana's money?"

She beamed. "It was money my grandfather saved for my dowry. Edmund mentioned that he secured the mill for you with his own money. Now we'll be able to pay him back much sooner."

"I was speaking to him about that," Rowena interjected. "Since you no longer have the great house to supply with mead and ale, he'd be thrilled to have that debt paid with drink. Of course only if the arrangement is to your liking."

Edana's mouth hung open for a moment. "He will let us pay him back in ale?"

Rowena laughed and patted Edana's knee. "Oh child, you have no idea of the depth of that man's love for your ale. He's been in a sulk today because I warned him that the supply you gifted us with is running short. The suggestion to have you repay with ale had barely passed my lips before he agreed."

Edana shook her head slowly. "Rowena, Bertram's wife told me how much Edmund gave them to hold the mill for Dalton. How can ale repay such a sum?"

"What would be the point of giving you a penny for a month's supply of ale only to have you turn around and give it back to us?"

"But, Modrige," – Mylward referred to Rowena as his maternal aunt - "I supposed my uncle wanted to be paid back faster than a penny a month."

"Maeg, your uncle loves many things. Ale is but one of them and perhaps money less than ale. He loves prosperity, hard work and cooperation. To his thinking, all are connected. Nothing makes him happier than Keswick buzzing with industry. And," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I think he intends to clinch some deals with that ale of yours."

Mylward laughed heartily. "So the truth comes out!"

Rowena smiled. "Yes, but before the repayment starts, Edana must brew a large batch for the wedding."

"Yes, I'll start it tomorrow. I must check on my chickens, anyway. Dalton seems to be doing better so he can stand to be without me for a day."

Rowena's eyebrows furrowed. "What caused his collapse?"

"He lost much blood when that branch wounded him. It's still not in balance. Until his humours are restored, his organs will struggle. His lungs simply weren't up to the task he set them."

Rowena shook her head, wide-eyed. "That you understand such things confounds me. I don't know that I could ever grasp it. You are lucky your intellect doesn't threaten Dalton. Some men don't like a wise woman. Luckily Edmund was tolerant in that regard, as well." She winked.

Mylward squeezed Edana's hand tightly. "My uncle and I are among the fortunate to be blessed with wise, beautiful, gentle women."

The lady of the house looked at him askance. "And you inherited Edmund's honey tongue. Watch this one, Edana. He'll talk his way around anything."

Edana laughed good-naturedly. "I think your warning comes too late for me, Rowena."

The older woman nodded solemnly. "I fear you are right, my child. Now with your permission, Dalton, may we talk about the wedding? We have little time to plan."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'll eat my stew."

Rowena leaned forward to touch the bowl. "Is it warm yet? I'll ask Astrid to get you more."

Mylward shook his head. "Warmer than many a meal I had – uh, on the road."

Rowena smiled. "Of that I have no doubt." Then she turned to Edana. "Edmund has sent a man to Whitehaven. He'll arrive tomorrow and the day after he should be able to find passage to the Isle of Man. Edmund knows many seafarers so his man will be treated well. Your parents should be here two days before the wedding if the seas are with us."

Mylward's spoon didn't make it out of the bowl. "Your parents are coming to the wedding?"

She smiled. "Yes. I haven't seen them in more than ten years."

"Ten years?" Mylward's voice rose.

"Like many a young boy, I was apprenticed to my grandfather when I was eight. I haven't seen them since they brought me here."

Mylward cocked his head at her. "You have no brothers?"

"I do, but they will follow Fader into farming. Mader said I was the only one of her bairns suited to Aldefader's work."

Rowena bent her head in deference. "It seems your mader had a keen sense for such things."

Edana chuckled ruefully. "Aye, but as an eight year old I didn't know it. I thought I was being abandoned."

Rowena tsked. "Poor lass, but your grandfather was a good man."

"A very good man." Edana nodded.

The lady of the house turned her attention to Mylward. "And we were heartily sorry that your parents didn't accompany you back from Mercia."

Mylward sputtered. "I -uh –"

"Forgive me, maeg. I didn't mean to trouble you. Edmund told me your fader wasn't well and his sister didn't want to leave him."

Mylward lowered his head. "Yes, but I'm thankful that I got to see him one last time." His voice cracked as he spoke. The tale was untrue, but his grief was real.

Rowena lowered her voice sympathetically. "Dalton, you must honour your fader by being the best man you can be. I know him not, but am I wrong that this would please him most?"

Looking at his bowl, Mylward blinked rapidly. "Yes, Modrige, that is exactly what would make him content."

The older lady smiled at him. "Then you are well on your way to making your fader a happy man. And you know Edmund will get word to his sister about your success."

As Rowena moved on to discuss various aspects of the church ceremony, Edana stroked Mylward's knee. He leaned against her for more comfort as he finished his food. With his belly full, he felt his eyes grow heavy. The women murmuring about wedding garments and garlands only added to the weight of his eyelids. When he woke next sunlight streamed into his room.

He was able to move around on his own easily and no one scolded him for being up and about. He was sure if Edana thought he needed rest, she would've left word with Astrid. The cook, however, seemed more interested in filling his belly than sending him to bed.

Although he missed Edana, Mylward thought he would have a quiet day, while the woman flitted about with their planning. He soon learned why Edmund was nowhere to be found. As soon as his fast was broken, Astrid took him upstairs to a seamstress Mylward didn't know was in the house. Rowena seemed to have a room she used solely for sewing. The only place Mylward had seen more cloth was in a market in Birmingham. He was told to stand still while Rowena and the seamstress draped many shades of wool over his shoulder. They tugged at him and spun him around. Comments were made about which colours went with his eyes. Then the women used pieces of yarn to measure his arms, his shoulders and waist. Just when he thought they'd finished they pulled out embroidery thread. That led to more discussions about matching hues and new talk of patterns.

When he was finally released from their clutches they sent him to the stable to help Swayn. The lad seemed overjoyed to see his 'cousin' and talked Mylward's ear off while the two of them painted Edmund's two-seat cart for the wedding. By the time they finished, he was covered in red speckles. Swayn had several smears on his brown tunic and a smudge on his freckled face. Mylward didn't want to be around when Rowena saw the state of her youngest. Mylward was cleaning the brushes in a bucket of water when he heard a groan behind him.

"Ugh, Swayn! The paint was for the cart."

Mylward looked over his shoulder to see Ulgar dismounting Gestum.

Mylward strode over to him. "Ulgar, well met! I'm pleased to see you." He embraced the man and thumped his back.

Ulgar retuned the embrace and then stood back to survey the situation. "It seems you made it in time, cousin, since Fader's cart is being painted red yet again."

"Yes, with much thanks to you, I made it in the nick of time. Let me help you with Gestum." Mylward then turned to Swayn. "I suggest you get to the well and wash as much of that paint off as you can before your mader catches sight of you."

Once the lad was out of earshot, the two young men shared stories of their respective journeys. Mylward spoke of haggling with every innkeeper. The reeve's son, however, was more interested in the quality of their ale. Ulgar was younger by a few years but they were close in opinion. Mylward hoped they'd formed a lasting friendship.

The days that followed were much the same, with Mylward put to work as an errand boy. Rowena would send him to fetch something from a particular merchant. He'd barely get a foot inside the door when Astrid would send him on a chase to the other side of town.

He had precious little time to steal sweet kisses from Edana, though he made it a point to every time he saw her. On the Sunday evening before their wedding day, Edana's parents arrived, but to his surprise, theirs was a party of three. He introduced himself to her mader, Maeve and fader, Wilburh, and though introduced, he wasn't told the relationship of the older woman, Burchwen. He presumed the woman to be Edana's aldemader on her fader's side. Though she didn't resemble the family at all, save her blue eyes. She might have been the tallest woman Mylward ever met and towered over Wilburh.

Edmund's large house had plenty of room for the guests and while they were fed a late supper, Swayn was sent to fetch Edana. Mylward looked forward to seeing her but aside from a hasty kiss, he had no time alone with his bride-to be. He spent the evening with Edana and her parents, but they talked mostly of people he didn't know. Her Mader did politely ask about his family and they listened while he spoke of Dalton's imaginary farm. The only snippets of truth were about his time as a dusty. Wilburh was a man of few words, but the stories of milling made him speak, albeit gruffly.

"I'm glad Edana chose a man with a good trade."

From the way Edana lit up, Mylward knew he'd received high praise.

Early the following morning, Mylward was dispatched to the smithy. Rowena needed tacks to hang the garlands. When he returned, Edana, Maeve and Burchwen were seated in the kitchen awaiting him.

Edana spoke first. "There's something we must talk about." Twiddling her fingers nervously, she flicked her eyes at the empty seat. "Please sit."

Mylward took the chair as requested, unsure of why Edana suddenly seemed anxious. Had her family decided to nix their match? He fiddled with the leather pouch of tacks he'd placed on the table.

Maeve cleared her throat. "As you know, Dalton, our family still practices the old ways. Edana has no problem making vows to your God. She has discussed it with Father Egbert. All he expects in return is that your children are baptized into the Church."

Edana spoke with widened eyes. "I expected he'd want me to convert, but he seemed more concerned about our children."

Mylward stilled his hands and furrowed his brow at her. "You don't have a problem with our children being raised as Christians?"

"I agreed to have them baptized. I didn't say I wouldn't teach them the old ways, too - not unlike your own parents did with you. Have I misunderstood your devotion to the Church?" Concern was evident in Edana's voice.

"No, not at all. I thought you'd agreed to give up your beliefs to wed me and I would never ask that of you."

Edana gave him a brilliant smile and reached across the table for his hand. "Thank you, Dalton, but that isn't precisely what we wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh." He took her hand and held on. Once again, he was unsure what the Manx women wanted of him.

Maeve took a breath to continue. "What we would like is for a traditional handfasting to follow the church ceremony. Edmund has agreed to let us use the town square. The crossroads will be perfect!"

Edmund agreed? When had they seen Edmund? The man had kept himself decidedly scarce since the wedding planning began.

Burchwen looked up at the ceiling. Mylward's eyes followed hers, but he saw nothing but beams. "Yes, perfect," the old woman said. "And the lady will yet be waxing. It isn't Beltane, but the signs are strong for you."

Mylward's grip on Edana's hand tightened. "I've never seen a handfasting. What is involved?"

The women's reluctance to ask him made him fear that bloodletting or lack of clothing might be a part of the ritual.

Maeve nodded at Burchwen. "The priestess will conduct the ceremony, perhaps she should describe it."

Edana's family brought a priestess with them? They certainly felt more strongly about their beliefs than Mylward ever had about his. He listened intently as the priestess explained. To his relief, the handfasting ceremony sounded innocuous and sweet.

Mylward looked into Edana's eyes when Burchwen finished. "I wasn't sure what you were going to ask of me, but I am fond of the idea of being bound to you. In my heart, I already am."

Maeve scrutinized his face with an intensity not unlike her daughter's. "I think my girl has made a wise choice in you. If I hadn't known the lengths you've already gone to for her I might think those words slipped too easily from your tongue. But many have spoken of your devotion to her, so I will put my trust in you." Then she turned to her daughter. "With that now settled, we have much to do."

The women all stood, but before they left him, Edana bent to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Dalton."

After she left the kitchen that morning, Mylward didn't see Edana again for two days - those days, however, sped by. He once again served as cook's assistant, this time not only to Astrid, but to Rowena and her daughters Cynwise and Leofwyn. He chopped onions, pitted plums and kneaded dough. He plucked chickens and geese. He beat eggs for custard until he thought his arm would fall off. He watched a pig roast on the hearth and yet he didn't see Edmund, not even at meal times. He was a wise man indeed.

In fact Mylward didn't see Edmund until the morning of the wedding. As the two men walked to the large church, the reeve spoke solemnly.

"Now Dalton, since your fader couldn't be here, I think it behooves me to speak on his behalf. I don't doubt that through your experiences in this life you have known a woman before, but the way we are with a wife must be different."

Mylward bit his lip in an effort not to laugh. "Yes, Eam."

"Edana is a beautiful, gentle creature and you must treat her with tenderness. I know you will be eager, but remember, she has saved herself for you. There isn't a greater gift a wife can give her husband but maidenhood. And you shall gift her with many bairns and the security of your earnings."

Mylward turned to look at Edmund. "My greatest desire is to keep her from harm."

"And I trust you'll not do her the injury of sharing the bed of another."

"I've made that vow to her already and I'll swear it 'til my dying day, Eam."

"That's what I wanted to hear." Edmund slapped Mylward's back. "Now you are ready to be wed."

Once at the church, Mylward waited on the steps for his bride's arrival. As soon as he laid eyes on her he knew it was worth the anticipation.

Her wedding tunic was woven of brilliant red wool. The collars and cuffs had been embroidered with the same sky blue of Mylward's garment in Edmund's pattern, signifying that Edana was joining that family. Her curls had been tamed and plaited into a single braid that hung down her back. Red and blue ribbons were woven through the strands. A garland of fall flowers circled her head. Ribbons of every colour in the rainbow flowed from the wreath and danced on the fall breeze. He was surprised to see blue slippers on her feet. Mylward had never seen her shod before.

"You are beautiful," he whispered as he picked up her hand. "Are you ready?"

Her blue eyes sparkled at him despite the clouds overhead. Her lips spread into a smile. "I am."

Hand in hand they walked through the open doors and into the nave of Crosthwaite. Father Egbert stood in the apse, his robe gleaming white. The crowd that had gathered outside followed behind them. As Mylward and Edana passed the transepts, the shuffling of feet and murmuring of voices grew louder. It hadn't occurred to him that so many would attend. It sounded like all of Keswick was behind him. The priest had to hold up his hand to silence everyone.

From his days at the abbey school, Mylward understood the Latin the priest spoke, but he had to squeeze Edana's hand when it was her turn to speak. Father Egbert didn't offer them communion - Mylward supposed because Edana hadn't been baptized. The priest gave a doxology and bade the couple turn and face the congregation. When Father Egbert announced in Latin that they were husband and wife, a cheer rose up. Edana looked at Mylward with confusion in her eyes.

He smiled at her. "He said we are married."

"Aye." She beamed at him in return. "But now let us be bound to each other."

Mylward thought the procession from Crosthwaite through the streets of Keswick to the town square must have been a spectacle to anyone seeing it. Then he realized there could be no witness, as the entire town trailed behind them. When they reached the crossroads a light drizzle filled the air.

Mylward sighed. "Would that I could make the sun shine for you, wife."

Burchwen waved his concerns away with a sweep of her long-fingered hand. "Ah, but this rain means you'll have a prosperous union. Let us fast your hands while it still falls."

Before she began, the priestess scanned the area. Then she placed Mylward and Edana in the center of the crossroads facing east, as they had in the church. When Burchwen was satisfied with their position, she pulled an elaborately carved stick from under her hooded green robe. The priestess walked in a large circle about them calling the Ancients and asking the Horned Hunter and the Lady of the Moon to join them.

If Mylward had been asked, he would've said there were already enough people in attendance.

After she'd circled them three times, the priestess stood in front of the couple. "Dalton and Edana, are you here of your own free will?"

"We are," they answered in concert.

Burchwen smiled. "Now please join your right hands so you can be bound to each other."

When Edana's hand slipped into his, Mylward felt a sense of completeness he'd never known. Even walking here from the church holding her hand didn't feel the same. Was this a magic the priestess had wrought?

When he looked at Edana, he found her eyes shining and her face glowing - surely nothing in the world was more beautiful than his wife.

Burchwen's voice pulled his eyes forward again. "Do you love each other?"

"Yes," he said more loudly than he intended. His voice drowned out Edana's response to his own ears, but the priestess must have heard because she continued on.

Laying a red ribbon atop their clasped hands, she said, "Then let you be bound together in love. Will you be faithful?"

Mylward turned to his wife and met her eyes. "I will."

Edana's smiling lips trembled when she answered the same way. A white ribbon joined the red one as the priestess murmured, "Then let you be bound together in faithfulness."

An orange ribbon was added to the others after they agreed to respect each other. Soon their hands were also topped with the blue ribbon of loyalty, the green of fertility and the brown of hearth and home. Finally Burchwen asked them to raise their hands.

As she knotted the ribbons together, she said, "The bonds of this handfasting are not formed by these ribbons nor the knots connecting them. The ties are created by your vows and pledges to each other. It is not your hands that are bound, but your hearts and souls. Dalton and Edana, please seal these vows with a kiss."

When Mylward lowered his head to press a kiss to Edana's lips the crowd behind them shouted their approval. He'd been so entranced by Burchwen and her words, he'd forgotten anyone else was there.

With their marriage sealed, the priestess removed the ribbons from their hands without untying them. Mylward was about to turn around, but Edana stopped him.

"She has to take the circle down first. It would be bad luck to break it."

When Edana assured him it was safe to move the newlyweds crossed the square to the reeve's home.

They made their way to Edmund's large dining hall, which had tables set up in a large square, mimicking the shape of the room. The couple had a table to themselves and they sat facing the open space in the center of the room. The remainder of the tables had been set with chairs tightly packed on both sides. Even so, Mylward noticed there were no children in the room. They must be taking their meal elsewhere. The only gaps between the tables were beside Mylward and Edana and one other by the kitchen door to allow people passage.

The feast the women had prepared, with his help, seemed endless. At the time Mylward had wondered at the vast quantities of food they were making, but when he saw the spread laid out in front of him, it was more splendid than he'd imagined. He soon realized that with the number of wedding guests, little of it would go to waste.

Everyone ate, drank and then ate some more. To Mylward's surprise a minstrel arrived. Children followed him in from the kitchen and sat on the floor or on someone's lap. The musician entertained the crowd with a song about Dalton and Edana's love. It told of his fall, Edana healing him, his journey back to Mercia. The crowd applauded when he sang of Dalton's gallant ride to save Edana's land.

The earl and his wife were in attendance, but luckily they'd had so much ale they didn't realize people were reveling about the Normans not getting the property. When the song moved on to talk about all the children the newlyweds would be blessed with, Mylward leaned over to whisper in Edana's ear.

"Is that woman with the earl the camp follower you met?"

Edana laughed. "Yes, but I had to look closely to be sure. She appears vastly different after a bath."

The minstrel sang more songs and had everyone's feet tapping. The crowd was dismayed when he stopped playing until he announced the Morris dancers. Their jingling bells and clacking sticks soon had hands clapping in time.

When the dancers cleared the floor, a makeshift maypole was carried to the center of the room. While more common at May weddings, Mylward knew they were a symbol of fertility, making his mind go to another wedding tradition he was eager to participate in. He tried to put that thought out of his head as he watched the young girls skip in circles around the pole, weaving their ribbons as they went.

With the end of that dance, Mylward hoped the feast was winding down, but then Edmund announced that it was time to bestow Dalton with the dowry.

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Wilburh stood to make the presentation. After muttering a few words of good luck, he handed Mylward the deed to Edana's land and a large purse.

Mylward thought they would finally be released but then the reeve took Wilburh's place and began to speak. Having heard a speech or two of Edmund's, Mylward realized this gave him a chance to whisper with Edana.

He hefted the leather pouch in front of him. "This is quite the dowry. Did your aldefader think it would be difficult to marry you off?"

His jest resulted in a punch to his arm.

"Teasing aside, good wife, this is a substantial purse."

Edana spoke close to his ear. "Yes, Aldefader saved most of the money Osric paid him plus my parents brought a small dowry with them. We'll have a better start than most."

When she leaned away he found himself staring at her mouth. "I loved you when I thought you a backcountry healer. I would've happily married you without a dowry." Leaning in he kissed her softly.

When their lips parted she murmured, "I'm still a backcountry healer."

"And I still love you. What little I have is yours." He found her mouth again and was thrilled to feel her tongue caress his.

Edmund's laugh and a roar from the people separated the young lovers.

"Fear not, Dalton. We'll have you out of here soon - just a few gifts to be presented first."

The reeve's idea of a few was vastly different than Mylward's. The table in front of them swelled with pots, urns, vessels of all kinds, embroidered cloth, preserves and jams, linen, puddings, and breads. Edana's eyes grew wide as the gifts accumulated. She turned to look at her husband with her mouth agape. The pile grew so high Mylward could no longer see what was added to it.

At long last Rowena announced it was time for the couple to depart. The guests formed two lines, creating a path in the open space that the bride and groom must follow to leave the room. Edana removed her garland and handed out flowers and ribbons as they walked. Even so, many reached out to touch her and tug at her tunic. Nothing was luckier than a bride on her wedding day and people hoped some of that luck would rub off on them. Her well-made tunic held fast but by the time they left the house her braid had been unraveled and all the ribbons were gone.

Someone had hooked Gestum up to the two-seated cart. In addition to being red, it had been decorated with garlands and ribbons as well. As the newly-married couple pulled away from the house Rowena called that she'd have their gifts delivered the next day. Several young people ran after them shouting and grabbing at the garlands, but many soon gave up the chase.

Only a gaggle of boys, Swayn included, followed the cart out of town. Mylward knew they would follow the couple to Edana's house to fetch the horse and cart back to Edmund. They couldn't well leave Gestum tied to a tree overnight and there was no stable. Mylward's only hope was that they'd be safely inside before the boys caught up. He had one thing on his mind and it wasn't chatting with Swayn and his friends.

Once the horse was secure, he helped his bride from the cart. They hurried down the path and were greeted by a bark from Wulf.

"Who's been watching the hound?" Mylward wondered aloud as the animal ran up to them.

"I only spent the one night in town. My parents stayed here after that first night. Did you not notice we were gone?" She looked up at him quizzically.

"I know I rarely saw you but I assumed Rowena had you as busy as she had me. Where are your parents sleeping tonight?" he asked warily.

His question made Edana laugh merrily. "We'll be alone, husband, not to worry. They are staying in town and tomorrow they'll make their return to the Isle of Man." She took his hand as she mounted the stairs.

"So soon?"

"Fader wants to get back to his farm. This is only the second time he's left it." They'd reached the top of the stairs and she turned to face him.

He was unsure why she didn't go inside. Was she nervous about what was to come? He certainly wasn't.

He smiled at her. "Shall we go inside?"

She put a hand on his arm. "Aye, but you must carry me inside. It would be a bad sign if I tripped over the threshold the first time we enter as husband and wife."

"Edana, you are more sure-footed than a deer and yet you worry at a threshold?" He opened the door.

Wulf had been waiting at the foot of the stairs, but upon seeing the open door, loped past them to lay down by the cold hearth.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you willing to risk a happy marriage for the sake of lifting me for a moment?"

Moving quickly, Mylward scooped Edana into his arms. She squealed in surprise.

"It's not carrying you that concerned me - only how the sudden onset of clumsiness might affect our marriage." He took an exaggerated step into the house and then closed the door with his foot. Turning to his right, he moved toward the stairs.

"You can put me down now," Edana murmured.

He shook his head. "I think I know the real reason for this custom. Now that I have you, I'm not letting you go."

She took a quick breath, but said nothing. From her questions about camp followers and her work as a mid-wife, she obviously understood coupling, but Mylward wasn't sure how thoroughly.

Edana's room, the one he expected would be theirs, was at the top of the stairs. The door was open and the bedstead had been decorated much the same as the cart. Once inside, he set her down.

She smiled up at him. "You're not afraid I'll run?"

"Do you want to?" His deep voice echoed slightly in the room.

She shook her head slowly.

He pulled her into a tight embrace. "And yet somehow I still want to capture you."

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her deeply. Her body pressed against his heavily and he felt like he couldn't get her close enough. As he stroked her bottom through the woolen tunic, he thought of how to achieve his goal.

While they kissed, he slowly gathered up the fabric of her garment. When it reached her hips, he slipped his hands underneath. His fingers skimmed her linen shift. And he could feel the warmth of her skin through it. They had to part when he pulled the tunic over her head. Tossing it to the floor, he stepped back to gaze at her in the linen shift.

The cloth stopped mid-thigh, tantalizing him with what it kept hidden. When her hands went to the hem, his first instinct was to stop her. He'd dreamt of undressing her many times, but the thought of her baring herself for him was far more appealing.

He hardly noticed the shift floating to the floor, so entranced he was by what she revealed. He'd felt the swell of her breasts in his hand, but seeing their fullness made him long to touch them again. His eyes were drawn to the curve of her hips and then further down her auburn patch beckoned to him. Pulling his garments off in one swipe, he stepped toward her. He watched her eyes as they traveled his body. He would look different than the last time she saw him naked. Did she long to touch him as he did her?

Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. "Do you know what happens now?"

Her eyes were wide as she bobbed her head. "And my mader spoke with me last night. She said I should ask you to go slowly."

Mylward chuckled. "I promise to start that way, but the ending will definitely be anything but slow."

Her forehead crinkled at his words.

"Let us lay on the bed. You'll understand soon enough."

As Edana crawled to the middle of the bed to lie down, Mylward thought his heart would beat out of his chest. Taking his place beside her, he kissed her. The kisses she returned were shy at first, but soon her mouth opened to him and he felt her body relax. He ran his fingertips over her skin, and gently caressed her breasts. When his fingers reached Edana's thigh, he was thrilled that she moved into his touch. He hoped to make her as ready as he was.

When he could wait no longer, he knelt between her legs. She looked up at him with complete trust. He'd never been so consumed by his feelings. His adoration overwhelmed him. "I love you, Edana," he told her breathlessly.

She smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. "And I love you, husband." She drew a long breath as he slowly filled her.

At the first resistance he felt, Mylward said, "Join your ankles around my back." Edana complied with trembling legs. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed his bride until he felt her body calm. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain, but he knew no other way.

With their mouths still joined he pushed past the barrier. Edana gasped making him stop within her. He lifted his head to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, eyes wide.

He stroked her hair gently. "It will get easier, I promise."

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Mader said it would."

Wrinkling his nose, he squinted at her. "Let us not talk of your mader right now, please."

To his relief, Edana rewarded him with a small laugh. Lifting her hands, she cupped his face. "Kiss me, husband. I find it easier that way."

Granting her wish, he moved once again. This time she showed no sign of discomfort and he felt his finish approaching quickly as he'd predicted. Edana caressed his back while he shuddered above her.

When Mylward opened his eyes, he found his wife looking up at him. "Did I please you, husband?"

"Please me?" He pressed his mouth to hers for a loving kiss. "Nothing has ever made me happier and I hope that soon, I'll be able to delight you the same way."

Her eyes twinkled at him. "It wasn't altogether unpleasant. I liked the feeling of being one with you."

Easing himself off his bride, he rolled to his back and pulled her atop him. "Then let us get some rest, so we can be one again soon."

End chapter 10.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter eleven

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Edana POV

Notes: Samhain is pronounced Sa-win.

Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

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The weeks following the wedding passed in a pleasant haze for Edana. In addition to her everyday chores, she took gratification in settling Mylward and their new things into the marriage home. Using mead for trade, she got a bushel of apples and brewed some cider. She favoured it over mead or ale on a cold winter's night. Unlike ale, it needed weeks to mature.

Aside from her visit to the orchard, she only left their home thrice. First she visited young Edgar, to see how his leg was mending. A few days later she cured an old woman of a fever. Then she assured a young wife that her vomiting was nothing to be concerned about and her problem should resolve itself in a few weeks. Before she left the pale girl, Edana advised her to take a mint brew for the symptoms. She hoped it wouldn't be long before life stirred in her own belly. It was too early to tell, but with the determined effort Mylward had been putting in toward that end, she wouldn't be surprised to learn a seed had already been planted.

Before she met Mylward she'd been worried about having a man underfoot, but whenever he left the house now she missed him terribly. Edana assumed that after the handfasting she'd never be lonely again. Then her husband went to check on the mill.

The business wasn't theirs yet but Mylward had gone to visit Bertram to see the place before they took over. Mylward was very underwhelmed when he returned for his midday meal and he shared his concerns with Edana. He speculated that due to Bertram's advancing years, the old miller had let repairs slip or simply didn't see them.

"That boy's been Bertram's dusty for five years and he didn't care about the disrepair. As soon as he shrugged off my questions, I knew I wouldn't be keeping him on. I'm sure there are far more suitable boys who'd be eager to work."

"What will you do?" Edana asked as she refilled his ale.

"This afternoon I'll return and tell Bertram that I'll take over as dusty until he and his wife are ready to leave."

Edana took her seat again. "Will Bertram accept that?"

"I'm sure he will when I explain that the dusty was essentially picking his pocket."

Her shoulders sagged. "Then I won't see you all day."

"But Edana, this arrangement would accomplish two things – I'll be able to have the mill in proper running order before we take over and I'll get to know some of Bertram's customers. My absence won't be any different than when the mill is ours." He pushed back from the table and patted his knee. Getting up from her chair, Edana sat on his lap, but the closeness didn't improve her mood. "You always have much to do. I'm sure you'll be fine." Sliding his arm around her waist he kissed her. "On top of that I'll need to find a new dusty and a family to rent the house beside the mill. Edmund will be of help to me in those matters."

Even she understood that Mylward was doing what must be done, Edana longed for him to be underfoot. She was surprised to feel Mylward's finger under her chin.

He smiled softly. "Come winter I'll no longer be busy and you'll have me all to yourself again."

She returned his smile wistfully. "Never before have I wished for winter to speed its arrival." She gave him a kiss before standing up. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

"You must know that I would rather stay in the shelter of your arms, but this mill is how I'll provide for us and our children."

She sighed. "I know, but that doesn't mean I'll miss you less."

Putting on a brave face, she kissed him before he left for the mill, but she moped until it was time to make his evening meal.

The next day when she went to visit the reeve's house to deliver ale and mead she moaned about her husband's constant absence to the women there.

Rowena threw back her head and laughed. "Do you not see him every morning?"

Edana straightened her back and thrust her chin out. "Yes." She had no idea what might be so amusing.

Astrid looked up from the pot she was stirring. "And he's home for his midday meal?"

Edana nodded.

"And does he not chase you around the table before you finish the evening chores?" Rowena's eyes sparkled with mirth as she teased the newlywed.

Astrid gasped suddenly. "No, no, Edana's upset because she's the one chasing Dalton!"

Both women howled with laughter. Edana sat at the work table with her cheeks burning. They laughed until they coughed and sputtered and couldn't catch their breath.

Edana crossed her arms over her chest. "Is it wrong to miss my husband?"

Rowena turned to the cook. "Oh, Astrid, do you remember what it was like to be so young and in love?"

She snorted. "Alas the mists of time have shrouded that memory from me. I do remember the squalling children and the husband eager to make more."

The lady of the house chuckled. "It is the one constant, isn't it? Maybe Dalton will be able to run fast enough once Edana has a few bairns hanging off her apron strings."

Rowena's joke sent the two women off into peals of laughter again.

Edana sat patiently waiting for them to quiet before she spoke. "I suspect I'll catch him even then. All I have to do now is bend over to pick something up."

She was pleased that her jest brought even more laughter. The conversation then moved on to the art of training a man and the various tools at a woman's disposal.

When she left, Edana felt closer to Astrid and Rowena than she had in the past. She'd often heard women tittering in small groups, but she was never let in on the joke. Now she knew why. And in spite of the teasing, Edana had a feeling in her belly that made her want to chase Mylward around the table. The thought brought a smile to her face. She knew it wouldn't be a long chase, though if she was honest with herself, Mylward's pursuit of her was never long. With one look into his eyes she could tell what was on his mind.

He'd unleashed a hunger within her she hadn't known existed. The first time she climbed atop him to satisfy that craving he'd been surprised, but not offended. In fact, her desire had the opposite effect on him and he learned how to fuel that fire within her at every opportunity.

Because of his work at the mill, Sunday was the only day they had to themselves. Mylward guarded it so jealously that he took Edana to mass on Saturday nights so they wouldn't have to leave the house. They'd turned down every invitation to Sunday supper they'd been offered.

On the day after Edana's visit with Astrid and Rowena, the fourth Sunday of their marriage, as they lay together in bed, they were surprised to hear Wulf's bark.

Lifting his mouth from his wife's breast, Mylward sighed. "Who comes here on a Sunday?"

Edana stroked his hair. "Perhaps someone is ill."

Grunting In response, Mylward left the bed and moved to the window. As he bent to look outside, Edana watched the muscles in his backside and legs move. She found more than his face beautiful.

"Hmm, it's Edmund."

All thoughts of her husband's exquisiteness fled as she sat up, her heart fluttering. A chill swept over her skin.

When Mylward turned from the window, his eyes widened. "What is it?"

"Husband, the last and only time Edmund visited this house was to tell me of the danger I'd put myself in by bringing you here."

They regarded each other soberly for a moment then pulled on their clothes.

When they got downstairs Edana fetched a flagon. "I'll pour some ale. He'll be thirsty."

Mylward opened the door to the cool October air and welcomed their guest. By the time Edmund reached the top of the stairs his ale awaited him at Aldefader's place.

"Fair morning to you both." The reeve greeted them politely, though he was still winded.

Edana pulled out a chair for the large man. "And to you, Edmund. But your visit makes me think this morning isn't so fair."

Edmund sat, wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic and took a long draw from his cup. "Methinks I should call on you more often. I don't like that the sight of me here brings foreboding, but alas, you are correct in your deduction."

Edana held on to the edge of the table and closed her eyes. "What is it, Edmund?"

Mylward pulled out the chair next to Edmund for Edana. Once she was seated he set another chair beside hers, sat down and took her hand. The warmth of his skin comforted her.

Edmund drew a long breath. "There is something I haven't told you because I hoped it would come to naught, but God wasn't with us."

Edana felt Mylward's grip tighten.

The reeve continued, "It seems Guy de Rouen and Augustine have become fast friends."

Mylward shrugged. "Why is that a problem? Maybe it will keep that nosey priest out of our hair."

Edmund sighed. "I thought the same thing until Goldyna hurried into my kitchen last night."

"Astrid's daughter?" Edana looked from her husband to the reeve. "What has she to do with this?"

Edmund nodded. "Aye, I set her up as Augustine's housekeeper. She's been keeping me abreast of the goings on at his rectory."

Edana was stunned at the revelation. She finally understood how Edmund knew so much. The man likely had eyes and ears everywhere. Then another realization dawned on her. "And Murwith?"

The reeve nodded. "Yes. Men of their status pay little heed to their servants, to our good fortune."

Mylward shifted in his chair. "What has Goldyna learned?"

"Last night the priest entertained the earl and his, uh, wife, Aggie. While Goldyna served the soup, the men conversed in Latin."

"Ah!" Edana remembered the two men speaking to her about the land. "I wondered how they communicated."

"It was providential that Aggie was there. Augustine translated the conversation for her." Edmund paused for a drink.

Mylward tapped his bare foot on the floor. "And Goldyna heard something important?"

"Dalton, do you remember how no one knew anything of the new earl?"

Mylward bobbed his head.

"It seems he was the captain of a squad of soldiers."

Edana didn't understand the significance of Edmund's news, but when she felt her husband relax she knew it couldn't be too bad.

Mylward smiled slyly. "So you were right, Eam. He's but a minor player."

Edmund's round face grew solemn. "Right and very wrong in the same breath, Maeg. His role was small but vital. He captained the squad that hunted down and killed the last of the rebels from York."

Edana gasped. "He was on the road!"

The reeve shook his head. "He wasn't with them, but he bragged to Augustine that his men killed the last six rebels. Goldyna heard him translate it for Aggie."

Dropping Mylward's hand, Edana jumped up and paced the floor. "Augustine knows it should've been six? So the earl knows too! What will happen to us now?"

Edmund pointed at Edana's chair. "Sit down, my child. All is not lost. Goldyna is sure the priest told the earl nothing."

Edana stopped pacing and looked at the large man. "He is protecting us?"

Mylward snorted. "No, Edana. He's going to use this piece of information for his own gain. He wouldn't want the earl to benefit."

She turned to face her husband. "Then what will he do?"

Edmund answered. "Guy had no sooner left the rectory then Augustine went straight to Father Egbert for his counsel."

Mylward hung his head. "So now both priests know."

Edana was shocked to see a small smile play at the reeve's lips.

"Egbert already knew. He was among the first. Unlike Augustine, I trust him with my life. Not all priests are power hungry and not all were happy to bow down to the Normans. Of course, he must be careful with his opinion. If only your compatriots had been taken to Crosthwaite, none of this would be a concern, but it was five miles further – the men who bore the dead had no idea what was at stake."

When Mylward lifted his head, his face looked brighter. "So Egbert talked Augustine out of pursuing this?"

Edmund shook his head. "No, he wouldn't lie. But he came to me straight away. Augustine divulged nothing. He was looking for the best way to approach the bishop with his valuable findings."

"And what was Egbert's advice?" Edana asked breathlessly.

"Not to go to the bishop with an unfounded report. If the information proved inaccurate and the bishop was made to look a fool, Augustine could not only count out being assigned to a wealthier parish but be assured to end up in some Godforsaken place in remotest Scotland preaching to goat herders."

Edana looked back and forth between the two men. "What does that mean? Augustine can't prove anything?"

Edmund grimaced. "He can if he tracks down any of the soldiers on the road that night. The description of a fallen rebel and the injuries he sustained that are remarkably similar to Dalton's would likely be enough."

Edana stilled as she considered Edmund's words until a thought occurred to her. "Those soldiers could be anywhere in Anglia!"

Edmund's face remained grim. "Aye, but a certain good friend of Augustine's would know where they are."

Edana collapsed into her chair. "So we are doomed?"

The reeve leaned forward and spoke softly to the young bride. "I don't think you need to fear just yet." Then he turned to her husband. "Dalton, can you describe the man you fought – his height, weight, eye color, anything?"

Mylward's eyes crinkled as he thought. "I was mostly looking at his sword and it was dark. He may have worn a beard."

Edmund nodded with his eyebrows raised. "That's my thinking exactly. It was dark. You were fighting, not studying each other's faces. I doubt they'll remember you either."

Mylward relaxed back into his chair but Edana jumped up to resume her pacing as she spoke.

"I was only a few feet away from the road during the battle. For all of the carnage, it was over remarkably fast. But the Normans didn't leave right away. I'm not sure what they were doing, but I could hear shuffling."

Mylward stood up and put a hand on Edana's arm. "Come and sit, wife. Your pacing is wearing me out. I'll explain what they were doing."

Edana looked into his eyes. The calmness she found there quieted her nerves so she took her chair as Mylward requested. When he sat down again, she reached for his hand and held it, taking strength from the contact.

Her husband took a long breath and let it out slowly. "It is common practice among the Normans, and even some of the English, to pillage the bodies of the dead. And I don't just mean weapons and coins. Some Normans stole the boots off the fallen. The soldiers may not have left immediately, but it wasn't because they were looking closely at our faces. In fact, I tried not to study the dead after a battle. It was easier to think of them as an enemy than a person."

Edana squeezed her husband's hand. "So you think that even if Augustine finds any of those men, they wouldn't be able to describe you?"

"I can't say for certain, but I don't think so. Others in the party were far more memorable. Alfred had red hair and Sigbert had a large scar on his left cheek. Those faces would stand out more than mine."

Edana sat silently for a moment. Nothing that was said comforted her. "None of this is certain. We can't be sure what that priest will learn."

"True." Edmund nodded. "But I don't think there is cause for alarm. If Augustine learns anything, I'll know before he returns – if he returns. He could very well be waylaid by a band of outlaws."

Edana gasped. "No Edmund! That is not the solution. You don't want his death visited upon you threefold. There has to be another way."

Edmund crossed himself. "You're right, of course. Such things should not pass my lips, even in jest. But consider this – if Augustine does learn something in Penrith he'll head straight to Durham to see the bishop. We'll know then for certain. If that comes to pass we'll have plenty of time to hide you away some place your enemies will never find you. It may not be the life we imagined for you, but it will be a life."

Edana's shoulders sagged. "When will we know?"

"He plans to leave in the morning. On his donkey it will take him at least a day. But we don't know how long it will take him to locate a soldier who can give him the information he wants."

Mylward had been sitting quietly but now cocked his head at Edmund. "Eam, why do you presume Augustine will get an answer in Penrith, if one is to be had? Might those soldiers not be in Durham or York by now?"

Edmund shrugged. "It's possible. But if I were William and I needed soldiers in the north, I'd use ones who were already there."

Edana watched her husband slump in his chair. He must have known Edmund's words to be true. She turned to the reeve. "There is nothing to do but wait?"

The large man sighed and pushed back from the table. "I'm afraid not, but at least now you are prepared."

Try as she might, Edana couldn't convince the reeve to stay for his midday meal.

"Rowena is expecting me. I missed mass this morning, God help me if I should miss her Sunday meal."

The young couple walked their guest to the road and after bidding him good day, they returned home silently. Edana was thinking about all of the ways Edmund's news could play out when Mylward spoke, startling her.

"I'm sorry to have brought this trouble. I should collect my things and leave."

Edana's heart lurched and then plummeted. "No, husband, please." Her voice cracked and tears welled up in her eyes. "Please don't go." Clutching at him, she buried her face in his tunic.

She felt his arms circle her and hold her tightly. "I can't bear the thought that I've put you in danger."

Still clinging to him, Edana turned her head and pressed her ear against his chest. The memory of straining to hear a single beat of his heart sprang to her mind. This day it drummed soothingly against her cheek. "I put myself in danger before I loved you. This house means much to me, but I would leave it behind without a second thought if it meant being with you. If you go, I'm going with you. Let us wait and see what the priest uncovers. All of our worries might be for naught."

She looked up to find his eyes shining with unshed tears. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her softly. "You really are an angel, aren't you?"

Smiling, she pushed his hair back. Every time he leaned forward it fell and screened his beautiful face. "I don't know what an angel is. Do I want to be one?"

She watched as his forehead wrinkled for a moment, then he chuckled. "Actually, probably not. Besides, I want you right here on earth with me, wife. But I don't thrive waiting around to see what will befall me. I prefer to take action."

"One of the things that impresses me most about you, husband, is your intelligence and I would think that one of the marks of a wise man is knowing when taking action is the best decision and when it's not."

Mylward lowered his hands to Edana's waist. "Perhaps a wise man chooses an equally wise wife and listens to her advice."

"I think maybe my mader and Rowena were right about your honey tongue."

Mylward grinned slyly. "I thought you enjoyed my tongue." He bent to nuzzle Edana's neck.

She fought not to collapse into his arms. "And possibly the other benefit to marrying a wise woman is that she may have thought of something her husband hasn't considered."

Mylward straightened up to look at her. "Have you a plan?"

She shrugged in his arms. "You and Edmund only think of ways to stop Augustine."

"What else is there to do?"

"We can defend ourselves. That's why it's crucial not to wish harm on anyone. It's best to leave determining who is right or wrong to the God and Goddess."

His eyebrows furrowed. "So we just hope they think we're in the right?"

Edana stroked his hair. "If they don't, there is nothing to be done about it. If we are in the wrong, one way or another, we'll be made to pay."

"But you don't believe we're in the wrong."

She shook her head. "I don't see how we could be, but I also see much benefit in guarding ourselves against the evil intent of others. I'll make us each a talisman and protect our house. It's time to work a new spell now that we are wed. Your safety is important to me."

"I could've used a protection talisman when I was fighting the Normans."

Edana looked into his eyes. "And yet you survived without one. Maybe you were already being watched over."

A sense of urgency surrounded Edana that she'd never known before. Her first priority was to create the talismans. There were a few items she had to gather and Mylward waited at the table with a cup of ale. When she returned with a small basket of ingredients he watched her intently as she worked.

She laid two scraps of wool on the table – one red, one blue.

Mylward cocked his head. "Those look like the same colour as our wedding tunics."

"I cut them from those garments. They are particularly powerful because of when we wore them, and uniquely ours. The connection to us will make the talismans stronger."

"Oh."

Peering into her basket, Edana retrieved two gems. "Hold out your hands."

In one of his palms she placed a green stone and in the other a red. "Close your hands and tell me what you feel."

Mylward did as he was told. A few seconds later he opened his right hand. "This one's bigger."

Edana sighed. "No, really concentrate. Close your eyes and tell me what impression each stone gives you."

She watched as his lids shut and his mouth twitched. After a few moments his eyebrows shot up and his left hand opened. "This one is hot."

He opened his eyes when she took it from his hand.

Pleased that he'd sensed the stone's power, Edana smiled. "The peridot." She placed it on Mylward's blue cloth.

Taking a second green gem from her basket, Edana repeated the process. Finding the carnelian warmer, she set it on the red wool.

Mylward pursed his lips. "Why are they different?"

"Both offer protection, but I wanted to know which felt stronger to you. We aren't the same person, so it shouldn't be surprising that our talismans aren't identical."

"Hmm." Mylward took a draw of his ale.

Next Edana took dried geranium petals, rubbed them between her palms and then sprinkled the crushed flowers atop the gems.

"You don't want me to hold the flowers first?"

Edana drew a long slow breath. "Flowers and herbs don't concentrate energy. Their potency is derived from how they are collected and stored."

"They didn't teach us things like this at the abbey school."

"And yet the Priest wears gems and an embroidered scarf. He burns incense. The table behind him is heavy with candles and flowers adorn the pillars. It seems we use the same tools though not in the same way."

Mylward blinked. "I never thought about it like that."

"Alike, but also very different," Edana added.

Mylward remained quiet as she scattered bergamot, comfrey, mint, Irish moss and thistle over the geranium. After drizzling bay oil over both talismans, she sealed them with wax. She finished them as she had Bronwyn's and tucked them into leather pouches.

Picking up Mylward's, she walked around the table and hung it around his neck. "There." She bent to give him a kiss.

"Does that seal the spell like in the handfasting?"

"No." She slipped on her talisman. "That's because I love you."

Once she'd cleaned her mortar and pestle and purified them with cedar, she prepared a spell to protect their home. She remembered sitting at this table many a time while Aldefader worked a spell. He always answered her questions patiently. She hoped she could be as tolerant with Mylward, but he knew less than she had as an eight-year old.

"Why do you need so much salt?"

She smiled. "It is the base of every protection spell. I need a lot because I'll have much ground to cover."

"You're planning to salt our land?"

She couldn't help chuckling. "Only a circle around the house. Then a little on the thresholds and window sills, just to be sure."

"Thresholds seem important to you."

She nodded as she added dried lily of the valley to the salt and ground them together. "They are the way to gain access to us and our life. We want only the good to get through."

"So that will keep us safe when we're home and the talismans are for when we aren't."

Edana bobbed her head again as she added elderflower to the mixture.

"If salt works, why are you adding herbs to it?"

Resting the pestle in the bowl, she straightened up. "I think the situation we're in calls for something stronger than salt, don't you?"

"Yes, wife, the more potent the better."

"Mmm." Edana lifted her chin as she picked up the pestle. "I agree."

To her relief, Mylward kept quiet while she finished. Then he sat on the stairs and watched as she called to the ancient ones and then Goddess and God. The only time he spoke was to ask if it was all right to be inside the circle she cast around the house. She assured him it didn't matter as long as he didn't cross it until she took it down. She was surprised when he followed her as she circled the house a second time. She was astounded when he joined her chant while they walked around for the third time.

"To this threshold and the land here round,

Shall the powers who protect us be bound.

The foul must heed all goodness and be sworn,

Henceforth the evil outside this place will mourn.

This salt will us cleanse and these herbs will us guard,

as I walk this circle full of pure intent to cast my ward.

By the power of three times three, so mote it be.

And harm ye none."

When Edana spilled the last of the salt, she turned to her husband. "It's good that you joined me. The spell is stronger when spoken by two."

He leaned down to press a kiss to her mouth. "Yes, together we are strong."

"I feel it too," she whispered. "Now I'll walk it widdershins to take the circle down."

Wrapping his arms around her, Mylward murmured, "Wait. There's something else I'd like to do in this circle." He caressed her bottom as he kissed her jaw.

"That won't add to our protection."

He lifted his head. "But will it weaken the spell?"

"No, but it might give a fright to a visitor."

A smile lit up his face. "I'll risk it."

The following morning Edana couldn't help thinking about being with Mylward in the circle they'd created. Perhaps she was wrong. Aldefader had never mentioned coupling as a means to bolster a protection spell, but she could count on one hand the number of times he'd mentioned the act and it usually had to do with Beltane magic. Something inside her said loving each other inside the circle drawn to guard them would definitely increase the power of that spell.

Before he left for the mill, Edana made sure Mylward had his talisman safely under his tunic. There was a chill in the late October air so she insisted he wear his cloak as well. They'd been given plenty of thick wool cloth at their wedding, so she'd been able to make one in the same colour as her own. After a kiss good-bye, he headed down one of Edana's herb-gathering paths. He'd discovered it passed right by the mill and claimed it was faster than the road but she'd never walked it to see.

Neither of them uttered a word about Augustine, but there was no doubt in Edana's mind that the priest filled her husband's thoughts as much as her own. To keep her worries at bay, Edana decided to begin her preparations for Samhain. A warm feeling flooded her when she thought about the first feast she and Mylward would share. Having their ancestors close at hand would make it a more powerful occasion. She wondered who might come to call when the veil between the two worlds was at its thinnest.

Edana stood stock still in the middle of the room. On Samhains past she'd often felt Aldefader at her side. It was the time of year that was easiest for spirits to cross into the land of the living. She realized why she'd felt someone in the room with her while she struggled with the deed and coins Osric had given her. Tears filled Edana's eyes as she sank to her knees.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Thank you, Aldefader. Thank you for showing me what to do. Now I find myself in more peril than I've ever known. Having you near is a great comfort to me."

Still kneeling on the floor, Edana felt warmth on the top of her head. It was like Aldefader's hand was resting there. His energy spread and soon it felt as though her body glowed with it.

Mylward's voice startled her out of her reverie. "Is something wrong?"

Quickly brushing off her cheeks, she stood and turned. "No, I'm fine. It's only that around Samhain I feel my grandfather's presence strongly. Has something happened? Why are you home?"

She watched in surprise as a smile formed on his lips. "I have news. Edmund was waiting for me at the mill."

"From your face, I would say it must be good tidings you bring."

"The best – Augustine didn't leave for Penrith this morning. He's taken ill."

Edana's hand flew to her breast. "I did not wish this illness on him. I hoped for a change of his heart. Please tell me you didn't ask for this. I couldn't bear it." She stepped toward her husband and put her arms around him.

"I didn't. I promise you. Any time such a thought entered my head, I pushed it away and instead asked for our safety and harm ye none, just as you told me to. Couldn't it be that your God and Goddess are with us?"

Edana nodded against his cloak. "Perhaps, but I still don't want harm to come to him."

"Why not? He wants harm to come to us."

She sighed. "I'd prefer his heart was made pure. Violence isn't the solution."

"Well, if the Christian God has decided against Augustine, violence won't be out of the question. He tends to be brutal if He's disregarded."

Edana leaned back to look at her husband. "Why would Augustine take that chance?"

Mylward pursed his lips. "Because, for some men, joining the clergy is more about power than faith."

She cocked her head. "Wouldn't a vengeful God take action right away?"

Mylward shook his head. "He does give people the chance to prove themselves. Maybe Augustine has run out of chances."

Edana stood quietly in the safety of her husband's arms as she considered what he'd said. She thought the priest foolish. If he knew his God was ruthless why risk angering Him? Possibly Augustine assumed she and Mylward were in the wrong, so his God wouldn't care if they were injured in his effort to move up in the Church.

"What ails him?"

Mylward shrugged. "All I know is he wasn't fit to travel. And now, good wife –" he bent to kiss her, "I must get back to the mill. Bertram says it will be ours in a week and I want everything in order by then."

"This is news you could've shared!"

He grinned. "I just did." Then after another quick kiss, he turned and left the house.

Mylward's absence always left a void, but Edana kept herself occupied by returning to her Samhain preparations. From the woods around the house she gathered asters, delphinium and phlox to weave a wreath. Then she chose several gourds from the garden she could carve.

At midday Mylward talked of nothing but the mill and the house. Bertram and his wife were leaving most of the furniture, as their daughter had no room. To add to her Samhain planning, Edana's mind was full of cleaning the mill house and finding someone to rent it before winter. The ailing Augustine rarely crossed her mind except when Mylward returned in the evening to report that the priest still hadn't left for Penrith.

On the Wednesday before Samhain, Edana decided to walk in to Keswick to visit the butcher. She wanted a ham for her first feast with Mylward. She never would've been so extravagant in the past, but this was a very special celebration.

Since the days were chilly, Edana chose to wear slippers. There was no snow, but the cold ground would nip at her feet. She was looking at the sky trying to decide if it might rain when she heard someone running down the path. Wulf appeared at her side and barked.

She patted his head. "Thank you, I know." To her surprise, Goldyna emerged from the trees. Edana ran down the stairs to meet her.

"What is it? What's happened?"

The young girl was too winded to speak.

Edana picked up her hand. "Take your time. Draw a deep breath."

"It's Father Augustine."

End chapter 11


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Daughter of the Moon, chapter twelve

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG-13

Category: Historical AU

Edana POV

Notes: Thanks to Dan, Mimic, FatCat, Karen and Mendy for beta reading and Tanya for her ongoing support.

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Edana's stomach fell. For a moment she stared at the young girl, unable to speak. Finally she drew a deep breath and asked, "Has he left for Penrith?"

Goldyna shook her head. "He's far too ill. It's the bloody flux and his doctor is bleeding him. It's not working. He's growing weaker and weaker."

Edana straightened her back. "Has he asked for me?"

"No," Goldyna murmured. "But I fear he won't be long for this world without your help."

Edana gave the young girl a sharp nod. "Of course. Just let me gather a few things."

In half of an hour Edana was at the priest's bedside. The room reeked faintly of vomit and waste. The lye soap Goldyna had scrubbed the room with couldn't rid all traces. Augustine was asleep, but she picked up his right hand. His skin would tell her much.

The flesh was hot and very dry. It seemed to be stretched over his bones thin as vellum. When she turned the priest's arm to feel his heart pump at his wrist, the linen shift slid down to reveal knife slashes, six of them, scoring his flesh. She pushed his left sleeve up only to be met with the same sight. Some of the wounds were still open and oozing. Others had closed but were festering with pus.

Edana turned open-mouthed to stare at Goldyna, who nodded.

"When he gets no better, his doctor bleeds him more."

Edana turned back to the man and put her hand to his forehead. "Father?" She looked at Goldyna. "He is feverish. Get a cool cloth, please."

Before the girl could move, a gurgling sound made Edana turn to the priest again. He was looking at her in alarm. His eyes held little moisture.

"What are you doing?" His voice was faint and scratchy.

Edana tried to speak soothingly. "Goldyna fetched me. She's worried about you."

"Get thee back, heathen! You're the spawn of Satan, himself." Spittle flew from the priest's mouth. "You're traitors to the king! You and that midland rebel. I'll see you hanged. Both of you!" He became shrill.

"Shh." Edana patted his hand. "All right, I'll go, but please don't excite yourself."

Augustine's eyes took on a wildness Edana had never seen before. "Don't tell me-" He tried to raise his voice, but the effort made him cough and wheeze.

Grabbing Goldyna's hand, Edana dragged her from the room. When they got to the hearth they could still hear the cleric sputtering.

The young girl stood by the fire quaking. "Why does he want us hanged? What wrongs have we committed?"

Edana felt like she was trembling as much as Goldyna, but she steadied herself and showed nothing to the housekeeper. Although the girl was in Edmund's employ, Edana had little idea how much she knew. Instead she patted Goldyna's arm. "Don't worry yourself. Augustine's fever has robbed him of his senses." Then she shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, but I can't help a man who doesn't want it."

Goldyna wrung her hands. "Why is he being such a fool? Can't he see his doctor is killing him?"

"A man can be so focused on one thing he can become blind to all else around him. Augustine is no different. Let us sit. I still might be able to help. And if he doesn't know it's coming from me, he may well accept it."

Whispering at the work table Edana told the young housekeeper to prepare a strong brew of the stinging nettle, dandelion and burdock Edana had brought with her.

"If he'll take blackberries, they will help too. Do you have some preserves?"

Goldyna bobbed her head.

"Make a hearty beef broth and see if he'll take some. Any of those will help his blood humour. Just don't let him hear my name, deny me if you must."

Edana left the young girl carving a shank of beef for the broth. The sun wasn't quite overhead, but Mylward would be coming home soon. Edana decided to meet him at the mill.

She was standing in front of the stone edifice trying to determine if she should knock on the plank door when it swung open. She smiled at the surprised look on her husband's face.

"I have news and we'll have to eat a cold lunch."

Mylward took Edana's hand and led her to his path. "I care not about the food. Tell me your news!"

"Goldyna came to get me this morning. She's worried about Augustine."

"Is he getting ready to leave for Penrith?"

"Our minds are much alike, husband, but no. He's dying. She wanted me to help him."

Mylward stopped on the path and stared at her. "Did you go?"

"Yes, but in hindsight, I realize that I should've simply told her what to do."

Edana pulled him toward home and recounted her visit with the priest. When she finished her tale Mylward shook his head.

"Wife, you do realize that most people wouldn't minister to a man who threatened them. Why do you concern yourself when he clearly doesn't want your help?"

"Because doing no harm is more than an element of the healing arts Aldefader taught me, it's part of the old ways. I won't turn my back on that. If Augustine survives, he was meant to and we were meant to leave this place. I can't change what I do and interfere with what is destined to be. I did everything I could for him and I'm content that whatever happens now is what is fated for us."

Mylward squeezed her hand. "I know my methods haven't worked in the past, so I will defer to you. As you say, the worst that could happen is that we must leave, but is it wrong to pray that doesn't come to pass?"

"Just as long as that prayer ends with harm ye none."

He sighed. "Yes, wife. But there is something that worries me. Why have I not suffered? I have harmed many. Should I be awaiting my threefold visitation?"

"You were left for dead on the road. Your friends perished. You've lost your family. How much punishment do you expect?"

"And yet I seem to have gained aplenty."

"Then whoever is holding the scales knows your true intent. Never forget that a pure heart is what matters most."

Once their cold meal was eaten Edana walked with Mylward to the mill and then carried on into town. Before buying the ham she stopped in at Edmund's house to share the news. Her revelation left all therein wide-eyed.

After haggling with the butcher, Edana returned home and her thoughts were soon consumed by her plans for the third harvest meal. The first harvest of grains at Lughnasadh had passed before the battle on the road. By Harvest Home, the second harvest, when most of the crops were reaped, Mylward had left on the quest to fetch his buried purse. Samhaim was the gathering of the last fruits and the most important harvest of the year. She felt guilty about not inviting Edmund and Rowena, but she wanted to be alone with her husband. There would be plenty of feasts in the years to come to celebrate with family and friends.

Samhain would fall on Saturday this year, and her visit to Augustine made Edana feel like she'd lost a day of preparation. She had much to do.

Like Edmund, Mylward was fond of her ale. Aldefader had shown her a different recipe for sabbats, their holy days, but she hadn't brewed it since he died. It would be the perfect homage to pay him when she commemorated her ancestors.

There wasn't enough time left in the day to start it, but she could have everything clean for morning and still have enough time to make Mylward a hearty stew for his evening meal.

That evening while he ate she told Mylward about her plans for November Eve. He listened patiently but she knew he was more interested in retiring to their bed for a celebration of their love - or maybe not bed, it didn't seem to matter to Mylward.

When he finished eating she collected their dishes, put them in the basin and covered them with warm water from the kettle. As a young girl in her grandfather's house, the washing of dishes had fallen to Edana. That was the way it had been in her parents' house, so she hadn't thought twice about it. When Mylward had been her patient, Swayn was living with them and helped her with the dishes, though somewhat grudgingly. After the first meal Edana cooked for her husband, he'd stood by her side to put the bowls on the shelf after she'd wiped without being asked. Edana wished she could meet the woman who'd raised such a son.

As she handed him a clean pot she said, "I know I said that I wanted to spend the third harvest alone with you, but I fear I'm being selfish. After everything Rowena and Edmund have done for us, do you think they'll be bothered that we aren't asking them to join us for Samhaim?"

"I doubt anyone will be surprised that we want to be by ourselves. If they don't ask us for Christmas, we can invite them for Yule."

With the dishes cleaned and stowed, Mylward opened the back door and emptied out the basin. Edana stood by the hearth waiting for him.

She held out her hand to him. "Shall we go upstairs?"

He stood just inside the door and stared at her.

"What?" she murmured.

"For weeks I lay beside that hearth and wondered what it would be like if you crawled into the pallet with me."

Edana felt herself flush. "Do you want me to fetch some bedding?"

Shaking his head, he approached her slowly.

She held her ground in spite of her racing heart. "But husband, these planks are very unforgiving."

"I'll be your cushion." He was close enough to touch her, but his hands stayed at his sides. "I've noticed the fondness you have for being above me."

Mylward stood a fraction of an inch from her. She could feel the heat of his body. Why didn't he take her into his arms?

He looked into her eyes. "Was I wrong?"

She trembled with want. "No."

"Show me."

Edana smiled as she realized that the hunter wanted to become the prey. Going up on her tiptoes, she leaned against him and thrust her hands into his hair. If her husband wanted proof, she would give it to him.

Though he asked her to take the lead, Mylward was not shy with his fingers. He gazed up at Edana as she moved above him. She could see her beauty reflected on his face. Did he witness the same thing in her countenance? Would he notice how the light in his hazel eyes burned through her or know how the fullness of his lips made her long to taste them? Did he realize the softness of his skin beckoned her, asking to be caressed or that she ached to feel the strength of his body surround her?

His hands skimmed her sides as he brought them to her breasts. His touch made her skin tingle.

"Love me," he whispered.

"I am." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I do."

Clutching handfuls of her hair, he pulled her mouth to his again like he wanted to devour her. His passion started a fire in her belly. She wanted to be engulfed. The flames licked at her as he nipped at her neck.

He panted beneath her. "Yes, my love. Show me."

Edana felt like her skin was alight. As she was consumed, his hands grasped her bottom. Her eyes closed while her body quaked and he shuddered beneath her. His arms wrapped around her securely when she collapsed against him.

Their loving left them covered with a sheen of perspiration. Mylward wanted to go to the bedchamber, but she insisted they bathe first. It didn't take long to heat enough water. Then they took turns standing in the tub to cleanse each other. For Edana, the act of washing her husband was as intimate as their coupling. From his response to the soapy cloth she ran slowly over his skin, she knew he revelled in it as well - so much so that after he bathed her, he carried her upstairs. Their second union of the evening was less frantic and Mylward fell asleep, snug in Edana's arms. Though in her heart she'd always known, she was sure then that it didn't matter where they called home, as long as they were together. Sliding her hand down to her belly, she let it rest there. She suspected it wouldn't be just the two of them for much longer - so much the better. Nothing was stronger than family. Let Augustine do his worst.

The following morning, once Mylward left for the mill, Edana brewed a small batch of spiced ale. Then she fetched some beeswax from the undercroft to make rosemary scented candles. In between dipping the candles, she made two loaves of Astrid's honey and oat bread. It wasn't ready at midday, but for his evening meal, Edana gave Mylward cheese and onion pie with thickly buttered bread.

It amazed Edana how much pleasure she took from watching her husband enjoy his food. Not only did his eyes light up at the sight of his favourites but he usually gave her saucy smiles as he ate. His smile this night was different.

"All of the repairs to the millworks are complete." He grinned as he picked up a slice of pie and took a large bite.

Edana beamed. "That is wonderful news! Did you have any luck in finding a dusty?" Next to finding renters, it was the final thing they needed to do.

He nodded, his mouth full of pie and bread. The food, however, didn't stop him from talking. "Possibly. Tomorrow I need to replace some planks in the sack floor. Edmund is sending over a lad he thinks will be suitable. If he puts in a good day's work, I'll take him on."

"And then he'll come to live with us?"

"Actually, I'm hoping he'll stay with whoever we rent the mill house to. It might be easier to get tenants if the rent is cheaper because he's boarding there. It's certainly big enough. If that doesn't work out, he can stay in the mill proper."

Edana gasped. "A young boy – by himself? Doesn't it get cold in winter?"

Mylward chuckled as he took another bite of his pie. "Edana, all of my father's dusties, save me, slept in the mill. Even I did at harvest time. He wanted me there year round, like the rest, but Mader put her foot down."

She eyed him warily. "And it's not cold? Will he have a fire?"

"Not in my mill he won't. No fire, not even a candle unless you want us all killed. That's the first lesson a dusty is taught. But don't worry, a well–maintained mill isn't cold, and I will keep it maintained."

She narrowed her eyes. "I think I agree with your mother. I won't let a boy freeze just because he's an apprentice."

He shrugged. "If it gets too cold he can sleep in the barn, but I suppose you'll want to heat that as well?"

Rolling her eyes, she changed the subject. "Have you heard any news of Augustine?"

"Edmund did tell me that Goldyna has managed to get some of the brews you suggested into him, but the doctor still visits several times each day."

Edana heaved a sigh. "These doctors claim to be balancing his humours, but how do they expect them to stabilize when they do nothing but drain his blood?"

Mylward's nose wrinkled and he set down the piece of bread he'd been holding. Edana pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh. She forgot he was squeamish. Picking up his ale, he took a long drink.

When he set his cup down he said, "I don't know, but I don't want to spend my evening thinking about that man. How are your preparations for Samhain coming along?"

As she told him about her day she was happy to see him finish his meal, relived that she hadn't put him off completely.

"Remember that if you go to the mill on Saturday you must return early. There is a ritual before the feast."

He smiled slyly at her. "I like your rituals."

"This one involves summoning our ancestors. What exactly would you like them to witness?"

He heaved a large sigh. "Have it your way, but be warned - for some reason your old ways seem to have an effect on me."

Edana smiled. "Being inside a circle does reveal a person's true intent and there's no secret about what yours is."

Mylward pushed himself to his feet. "And I thought I kept it so well hidden."

She looked at his tunic below his midsection. "Like you're hiding that?"

He looked down at himself, then back at her with a lopsided grin and stepped towards her. "Perhaps not, then."

Edana took a step backward. "No, husband, not the floor again."

He moved a pace closer. "What's wrong with the floor?"

Edana looked to her right. The stairs were only a few strides away. "The bed offers more comfort." Before Mylward could respond she turned and bolted to the staircase.

She heard her husband's chuckle as he followed her. She was halfway up when he made his first footfall on the stairs. Squealing, she increased her speed. She could feel him almost upon her when she reached the top step. His hand swiped at her tunic, but she was too fast. Once in their room, she turned and faced the door. He was already filling it.

"There's a floor up here too." He tapped it with his foot.

Still regaining her breath, she shook her head.

He raised his eyebrows and stepped into the room. "Are you saying no to your husband?"

"I'm saying no to the planks." She backed up a pace. "I wouldn't say no to you. If I wanted to deny you I'd add some monk's pepper to your food." She grinned at him.

He sighed. "Why did I fall in love with a wise woman? Will I ever win against you?"

Pulling her tunic and shift off together, Edana tossed them to the floor. "What have you lost?"

"Oh, perhaps the slightest bit of power I might've had over you." He, too, pulled his garments off. "Because I know I'm powerless. I'll give you whatever you desire."

Backing up to the bed, she crooked her finger at him. "Then come here."

Mylward, as was his usual practice, slept soon after loving her. Edana instead lay in the safety of his arms, awake and pondering. She was having great difficulty calling the man she loved Dalton and couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't be Mylward to her. She lived in fear of using the wrong name in front of someone being the only person in Keswick who knew the true one. Perhaps as the years passed she'd grow accustomed to adopted identity. For now she called him husband. No one thought it odd and it was more comfortable than Dalton on her tongue.

Sighing in his sleep, he snuggled closer to her. She found it strange that he thought himself helpless against her. He obviously had no idea the sway he had over her. Was relinquishing power to each other part of being in love? Then she realized it wasn't the surrendering of oneself that defined love, but the trust needed to do it.

In the morning, Mylward told Edana about his plans for the day over their porridge.

"I have to visit the sawyer and get new planks. I think I'll take Wulf with me, but we should consider getting a stout horse. Bertram didn't deliver flour the way my fader did. I think we should. I'll put the word out that I'm looking to buy a horse next spring. What do you think?"

"I'll leave running the mill to you if you'll leave healing the sick to me," she said with a wink.

"Edana, it's your money. You should have a say in how it's spent."

"By law, I think it's your money."

"I care little for the Norman laws. I want to know what you think."

She cocked her head at him. "How long will it take a horse to pay for itself?"

"One harvest."

"And will it have other uses besides delivering flour? Will it make your life easier?"

"Yes, many uses, but I will need to build a stable."

Then Mylward listed the ways in which a horse would be helpful, but Edana wasn't listening. She passed the mill on her way to Keswick so often she could picture it easily. The mill itself was a large structure and looked foreboding to her, but the house was tucked back from the road. At first glance, it didn't look big, but Edana had been inside with Aldefader once to treat a dusty who had crushed his finger. The house was bigger than it seemed – plenty of room for bairns. In an instant, Edana knew she didn't want to raise children in Aldefader's house. How could she keep a cradolcild here if someone was so ill they needed to stay? How could she keep wee ones out of her herbs? Even a small amount of nightshade would kill a bairn. Then she heard Mylward saying her name.

She blinked at him. "Hmm?"

"You don't think we should get a horse?"

"Why do you say that?"

He studied her face. "You were shaking your head."

"No, I think a horse is a good idea. Let me help you harness Wulf. I used up the last of the milk in our porridge. I'll come with you and get more. I want to talk to you about something."

As they walked into town, Edana shared her thoughts about having children in Aldefader's house.

"You want to move into the mill house?"

She slipped her hand into his. "If you agree."

"And you'll just keep your herbs and make your medicines at your house?"

"And the ill can stay there if they need to. I don't want them to pass their diseases to my children."

He frowned at her. "Disease can be spread?"

"I know that the new doctors don't think so, but Aldefader maintained they could and I believe him. Look at how chicken pox sweeps over all the children in a house. If their cousins visit, they are affected too. You don't think it transfers from bairn to bairn?"

"Maybe it's something in that house."

"But if you keep other children away until the sick have recovered no one falls ill. If it was the house, why wouldn't any child that visited be afflicted?"

He smiled. "I was going to leave healing the sick to you, wasn't I?"

She squeezed his hand. "But do you mind the loss of income?"

"No, I think the health of our children is worth a few pennies a year."

"If I brew more ale, I could easily make that up. At the mill house I could have a bigger garden and more hives. I see plenty of potential for more income. Many people have asked to buy my candles, but I've rarely had any to spare. More beeswax means more candles. More bees also means more honey and mead."

Mylward laughed. "All right, all right, you don't need to convince me. I would prefer to live closer to the mill, anyway."

"Why didn't you say?"

He shrugged. "You seem attached to the place."

She smiled. "I am and I'm not giving it up."

Mylward bent to peck her cheek. "I did say I'd give you anything you desired. But instead of going back and forth, I could build you a separate place for your herbs and medicines that you could lock up."

"But I collect almost all of my herbs on that land."

Mylward's tone was patient. "And you still could. Would it be that much further?"

"No, I suppose not. But that doesn't resolve what I would do with patients who need constant tending, like you did."

"Maybe I could build an extra room –?"

Edana laughed. "Are we building a village of our own? A stable, my medicine house, our home, the mill –"

"Why not? Is there a rush? How long until a child might get into your herbs. We probably have two years before we'll need to worry about that. There's plenty of room for a stable and your medicine house. For now you can use the kitchen in the mill house and there are extra bedchambers for the infirmed if you need them."

She shrugged. "I suppose, but I think maybe it's time that I had an apprentice of my own, maybe not an actual apprentice, but someone to help out. I'll need someone who can assist when I am great with child and right after I give birth."

Mylward stopped walking and stared at her. "Is that what this is all about? Are you with child?" He put his hand on her belly.

She placed her hand on his and looked into his eyes. "How long have we been wed? Have I had my moon time?"

His face lit up. "So you are?"

She smiled at his joy. "Possibly, but there have been a lot of changes in my life. My timing might just be off."

"When will we know for certain?"

"For certain – a few weeks more."

Mylward looked into her face and shook his head. "You already believe you are carrying my child."

"Say nothing to anyone. Any number of –"

"Shh." He bent and kissed her softly. "I'll say nothing if you promise that you'll let nothing negative pass these lips." He kissed her again.

Tugging on his hand, she pulled him toward town.

"All right, I'll tell you when you can spread the news. Yule would be the perfect time to make an announcement."

"Yule! But that's so far away."

"It is, but I'm not allowed to say why I want to wait until then." It was a fact that Mylward mightn't know and she wouldn't worry him with it, but Edana knew how many babies were lost in the early stages, particularly to first-time mothers.

He sighed. "You win again. I thought the man was supposed to make the decisions."

She smiled. "Is that how it was in your parents' house?"

Her question was met with silence.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

She was waiting for his answer when he lifted his arm to point. "Look. There's Astrid."

Edana rolled her eyes as Mylward waved to Edmund's cook, then turned toward her. "I'll leave you women to gab. I must get to the sawyer."

Edana stopped as Astrid hurried over to her.

"What are you grinning about?" the older woman asked.

Edana chuckled. "Dalton is learning who truly runs a household." Looking at the bucket in Astrid's hand, she lifted her own bucket. "It seems we're going to the same place."

"Good, we can talk."

"You have news?" Edana asked, not sure she wanted to know.

"I saw Goldyna last night."

"How is she faring? Last time we met Augustine upset her."

"Oh, don't worry about my girl. She's a brave one. She didn't have much to say, just that the priest has been taking the broth and brews, as you advised."

"Are they working? Is he recovering?"

"Aye, Goldyna says he has improved, but the doctor is still bleeding him."

Edana sighed. "Then all the brews in the world won't save him."

Astrid lowered her chin. "I will pray for him."

They were quick at the dairy and even though Astrid had a full bucket she accompanied Edana to the edge of town, talking the whole way.

"Edmund and Rowena know that you and Dalton will want to spend the third harvest together. It is family time and your first feast. Rowena was going to send Swayn to the mill to ask Dalton, but fortune has you here in town. Will you consider supping with us on All Saints Day after the mass at Crosthwaite?"

Edana reached for Astrid's free hand. "That would be wonderful, thank you. Since we won't be at church tomorrow, Dalton said we should go Sunday. He says it's an important day in the church."

"It is. My mader always jested that the church took one day of feasting from the old ways and made it into three. Everyone still communes with their ancestors on Samhain, celebrates the big mass on All Saints Day and then ends with the feast of All Souls – any excuse for a big meal."

Edana smiled. "Yes, but there is plenty this time of year. Better to feast than let it spoil."

"Ah, 'tis true. And we should be thankful we have ample to feast with. There are some who aren't so fortunate."

Edana nodded. "Aye. It was good talking with you, but I must be going. I still have much to do."

After hugging as best they could without spilling any milk, they wished each other a blessed Samhain and Edana started home. On the way her thoughts were taken over by the third harvest feast. Almost half the morning was gone and she had gourds to carve, pudding to make, cider to decant, dried flowers to weave, all on top of her normal chores. Tomorrow would be busier still.

Saturday morning Mylward decided to work through his midday meal break so he'd be able to leave in plenty of time for the day's festivities. Edana found his dedication endearing. There was no grain left to mill and all the repairs were made. Bertram was handing over the mill in two days. She knew Mylward was trying to make it perfect for them.

For the first time since Mylward began his work, the hours he was away flew by. Edana not only cooked their feast of ham, turnips, carrots, cabbage and beans but cleaned the whole house as well. Everything must be spotless for a sabbat. She chose a special platter and loaded it with food. She cleaned Aldefader's favourite flagon and filled it with spiced ale. It would help draw him closer. She knew he was already near, but it was tradition.

When Mylward arrived home Edana told him they'd need to bathe before the ritual. She scolded herself for being too distracted to realize that bathing with her husband would delay her plans. His eyes took on the gleam she recognized as soon as she removed her tunic. Their loving only delayed the ritual by a quarter of an hour and when she thought about it, she knew it would help Mylward's focus.

Edana had her husband build a big fire outside. Then she brought out the platter and flagon. When he reached for the food, Edana slapped his hand away.

"This is for our guests. Our feast is later."

"Sorry," he muttered. "What should I do?"

Edana pointed to a spot in front of the fire. "Stand here. I'm going to cast a circle. You can join me while I call the Ancients and the Goddess and God if you like. "

Mylward had obviously been paying attention whenever a circle was cast, because he spoke the words perfectly. But when Edana began the Samhain invocation he fell silent.

"Lord of the Shadows, God of Life and Death, I beseech thee, open wide the gates through which all must pass.

Let our dear ones, who have gone before, return this night. Let them eat, drink and make merry with us, so they will be refreshed when they are reborn. Let us be in the same place and time with our beloved and may we know, remember and love them again."

As Edana recited it a second time she dropped to her knees in front of the fire. She heard Mylward join her as she uttered the chant a third time. Edana lifted her face skyward, and raised her arms, palms upturned.

It started slowly - a flutter against her cheek, then a graze to her back. Edana smiled when she felt Aldefader's hand rest on her head. She was easily distracted as a girl. He used this gesture to get her attention. It seemed like she was a little girl again, listening to his lessons. She then felt the presence of a female spirit she didn't recognize, but who visited her often. She supposed it was her Aldemader. A brush against her fingertips made her open her eyes. She'd never been contacted that way before. In front of her, the fire surged and crackled. Sparks spiraled upward. Mylward was on his knees beside her, face to the waning moon, eyes closed. His hair moved as though someone brushed it off his shoulder. She closed her eyes again, overjoyed that her husband was being welcomed by the spirits. A hot tear spilled onto her cheek and she was startled to feel it being wiped away. Opening her eyes, she expected to see Mylward's fingers, but he was unmoving beside her.

It was certainly the most intense visitation she'd ever experienced. Even Samhain with Aldefader hadn't been so powerful and he'd possessed potent magic.

Edana struggled to focus on her ancestors once again. There would be plenty of time later to consider the significance of what she sensed. Staring at the fire, she took several deep breaths and murmured the chant again. To her surprise Mylward recited it with her. She was rocked by an upswell of energy when he grasped her upraised hand. Suddenly Edana could feel more hands firmly on her shoulders, then lightly on her belly. Next it was the sweep of lips against her forehead and her hair being stroked. A laugh welled up from inside her but then just as quickly sorrow overwhelmed her and she began to sob.

Mylward's hand left hers, and his arms wrapped around her. "What's wrong?"

She collapsed against him. "Nothing, nothing at all. That was beautiful. Did you feel them?"

"I felt something. Were you touching me?"

She laughed merrily. "That wasn't me. Let me take the circle down. We can talk about it while we feast." She hugged him tightly. "Our magic was strong tonight."

Once the circle was down, Edana told Mylward that the food and ale would be left outside for their ancestors to enjoy. Inside she took the clay pots that had kept their food warm and brought them to the table. She lit the rosemary-scented candles and then held her hand out to Mylward.

"Now we thank the God and Goddess for this bounty." She smiled when he bowed his head. "This isn't church. You can open your eyes."

"Oh." He shrugged.

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Just feel the words."

"All right."

"Tonight we celebrate Samhain, the third and final harvest, the end of summer. The cold nights wait on the

other side for us. The bounty of our labor and the

abundance of the harvest lies before us. We thank the

earth for all it has given us this season, and yet we look

forward to winter, to that sacred time of darkness which

fosters new life. So mote it be."

Over their meal, Edana told Mylward everything she'd seen and felt in the circle.

"That wasn't you touching my hair?"

Smiling, she shook her head. "That was a spirit who loved you. Did someone used to caress your hair like that?"

Mylward cocked his head and though his eyes looked at her, she could see he was far away. Then his head snapped up and his eyes focused. "My grandmother. She was always patting my head. Was that really my grandmother?"

She gave him her biggest smile. "Only you can know for sure, but I think you already suspect the truth."

They finished their meal and cleaned the many dishes and pots still talking about who had crossed the veil to call on them. Then, for the first time in their marriage, they fell into bed already exhausted and slept.

Before they left for church in the morning Edana considered harnessing Wulf in order to pull the cart, but she wasn't sure what to do with him while they were at church.

"Why do you need to bring the hound?"

"I want to take cider and spiced ale. We shouldn't go empty handed."

Mylward pursed his lips. "The cider jug has a handle, doesn't it?"

Edana bobbed her head.

"If you can manage that, I can carry the cask of ale."

Edana smiled. "I'll be fine. It's not that heavy."

"When we have a horse this won't be an issue. We'll be able to stable it at Edmund's."

Edana stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Husband, if you start using a horse to go back and forth to town, you'll end up looking like Edmund."

The morning was cool so Edana fetched her cloak, though Mylward opted to go without. They set a quick pace, wanting to arrive at the reeve's before they left for mass, but didn't make it. Astrid was still there though, minding a hart that was turning on the spit. She was thrilled to see the ale and cider.

"Aren't you going to mass?" Mylward asked as he set the cask on the work table.

"Too busy – I went last night. And you two will be late if you don't make haste."

Hurrying to the church, they got there just before the doors were closed. The people at the back parted to let them through, murmuring greetings as the couple passed. Mylward stopped about halfway up the nave. Edana was still catching her breath when the mass started, but she soon grew bored. In spite of attending church regularly with her husband, she had no idea what was going on. To pass the time, she looked around at the people of Keswick. Edmund and Rowena stood near the front. The reeve was easy to recognize. Because of his status, he was entitled to be near the priest. Two other figures stood even closer to the chancel, but Edana didn't recognize them until the woman looked to her left. It was Aggie. She was surprised to see the earl and his wife at Crosthwaite, but quickly understood that everyone from Augustine's parish must be here. As Edana surveyed the throng, she realized by the garments that people wore, the rich stood at the front and the poor at the back. Mylward and Edana stood in the middle with most of the townsfolk.

She almost laughed out loud when she saw the dairyman leaning against a pillar close by. He was fast asleep. Scanning the other pillars, she found them all surrounded by sleeping men. Then she felt Mylward's elbow nudging her. She glanced up to find him looking at her with his brows furrowed. Lifting her chin toward the nearest pillar, she showed him why she was smiling.

At long last Father Egbert stopped speaking and walked past them and out of the church. It took a long time for the building to empty. No one seemed in a hurry to leave, preferring to talk in small groups, blocking the way out. Edana drew a deep breath when she got outside. The priest had been generous with the incense and it made her dizzy.

On the steps Mylward chatted with the smithy. Edana was happy to be in the open air, and instead of listening to her husband's conversation, she went back to people watching. It was easy to judge everyone's importance in town by whom they spoke to at church. Though the baker might not have fine clothes, every merchant in town greeted him.

Edana was so engrossed in her thoughts, a touch on her sleeve startled her. She turned to see Father Egbert's smiling face.

"May I speak with you alone, child?" He nodded to an empty corner in front of the church.

She nodded. "Of course, Father."

Once they reached their secluded nook he leaned in to speak close to Edana's ear. "I had a visit from Goldyna last night. The poor girl was in tears. Augustine's doctor caught her giving him broth and flew into a rage. He claimed she was killing him. The doctor gave Augustine something to make him vomit and then bled him. He told her to leave and never come back."

Edana brought her hand to her breast. "Oh poor, Goldyna. Where is she now?"

"I took her back to Michael and All Angels."

"To who?"

"That's the name of Augustine's church. I convinced the doctor that Goldyna had been following my instructions. Augustine was in a state – screeching about the Devil and traitors to the crown."

Edana gasped. "Oh no!"

Egbert patted her arm. "Never fear. The doctor is convinced that Augustine's raving is caused by his fever."

"Were you able to settle him?"

"Yes, when I stayed and prayed over him, he calmed and slept."

"Do you think Goldyna will be able to give him the brews again?"

Father Egbert lowered his eyes. "I'm afraid not. The doctor insists that Augustine's stomach remain empty. We'll not get anything into him. I fear for that man's soul."

"Father, you must know I'll do whatever I can. Please fetch me immediately if Augustine will accept my care."

The old priest gave her a small smile. "I will, child. I know your heart is true."

"Thank you, Father," Edana murmured.

Egbert's face brightened. "Is married life agreeing with you, Dalton?"

As the priest finished speaking, Edana felt a hand on her back. Though they'd only been wed a month, she knew the touch immediately.

"Ah, Father, I'm learning that while a cock may crow, the hen rules the roost." Mylward's hand settled around her waist and he gave her a squeeze.

Egbert chuckled. "Then you've learned the secret to happy wedded life, though I've known few who've learned it so early or admitted it so freely."

Mylward lowered his voice. "Aye, but only to my confessor. I trust my confidence is safe with you."

The priest bowed his head. "You have my solemn vow."

Father Egbert was of great consequence in Keswick, some would argue he was the most important person in the town. Others would contest Edmund held that distinction. It heartened Edana that she could trust both men with the one detail vital to her husband's, and in fact her own, safety. Of course, Osric used to be the most significant man in the shire, but the earl hadn't assumed that part in Keswick's eyes as of yet. They had only one minor albeit bothersome concern – Augustine.

Mylward bowed his head in return. "Thank you. And I must say that was an enlightening mass. I liked that you chose to read from the Sermon on the Mount for the Gospel, particularly Matthew chapter 5, verse 6 – Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied."

Edana was amazed to see a sly smile on the cleric's face. "I may be a sentimental old fool, but the Beatitudes hold a special place in my soul."

Mylward nodded. "As a lad they were the only part of the Gospels I was able to memorize. Thank you, again, Father." Mylward turned to Edana. "And now, wife, we should hustle over to Edmund's house. Everyone's gone ahead of us and if we don't hurry there'll be none of your spiced ale left."

Father Egbert laughed. "Not everyone has gone ahead. I've been invited to sup as well. I'll walk with you."

The feast at the reeve's house was bountiful and merry. Edmund's entire family was there – grandchildren included. Aside from Father Egbert, the smithy and wooler were in attendance with their families. Edana was amazed to see Guy de Rouen and Aggie. Perhaps they weren't such fast friends of Augustine's after all.

It was late in the afternoon before they left for home. The air felt crisp and the spicy smell of fallen leaves surrounded them. The young couple walked hand in hand. Edana enjoyed the way the sun shone through the thinning leaves, creating a dappled pattern on the road.

Mylward spoke, startling her slightly. "What?"

She looked at him with her brows furrowed.

"You sighed."

She smiled. "It's a beautiful day. We're together. I'm content."

Her husband drew a breath as if to speak but then shook his head.

She squeezed his hand. "I won't trouble myself with things I can't control. Whatever happens, I know as long as I'm with you, I'll be happy."

She gasped as Mylward swept her into his arms, holding her off the ground. She didn't have time to catch her breath before his mouth was on hers. When they parted, he looked into her eyes.

"I've never been happier, but am I wrong to want it all – to hope to stay where we are building a life and a family, where we have good people looking out for us?"

Edana stroked his cheek. "Not wrong. I hope for that too. I beseech the Goddess and God that we might stay here. But if that isn't what's meant to be, I know I'll be content as long as I have you. My greatest fear is losing you, not leaving this place."

He nuzzled at her neck. "You won't lose me – not if I have a say in the matter."

She sighed again. "Mmm, I know you like to fawn over me, but I am able to walk home."

"It's not far now. I think I'll carry you." In one motion he turned her, so one arm was around her back and the other under her knees.

She tsked. "Husband, set me down."

Shaking his head, he walked on. "Remember, once I've got you, I don't like to let you go. Besides, doesn't the cock get one day to rule the roost?"

Once at home, it seemed to Edana that Mylward tried to make up for the time they normally spent together on Sundays, only willing to pause their loving for a light evening meal of bread and cheese. She was sleeping peacefully in his arms when Wulf barked loudly.

Mylward groaned. "Do people tend to fall ill when the sun goes down?"

Edana laughed. "You should be thankful they didn't arrive an hour ago."

After pulling on their garments, they hurried downstairs to see who was calling. Edana lit a candle lantern before she opened the door. Goldyna stood outside preparing to knock.

"Father Egbert sent me. You must come!" was all she said.

Through the darkness the three ran to the rectory. Above them the sky was cloudless and the wind had stilled to but a whisper. The waning moon sailed over them like a beacon.

When they reached the rectory, Goldyna stopped at the door.

She fought for breath to speak. "I must fetch Edmund." Turning, she ran toward town, her cloak flowing behind her.

Once inside the cleric's rooms, Edana led Mylward to the bedchamber. The reek in the room was overpowering. The healer knew it was the stench of death – not the putrid smell of decay, but bile, vomit, excrement and pus. Augustine's humours were so badly out of balance that they fled his body. Edana hadn't known a single soul to survive this stage of disease.

Father Egbert knelt at the bedside and murmured words Edana didn't know.

"Father?"

The older priest looked up at her, though his lips didn't stop moving.

She crouched beside him. "I'm afraid it's too late. There's nothing I can do."

Egbert reached for her hand. She stayed with him while he continued his prayers.

Augustine barely breathed, but his chest rattled nonetheless. When he opened his eyes, they no longer looked wild. Instead they overflowed with terror.

When Edana looked over her shoulder, she found Mylward with a hand clapped over his nose and mouth. Before she could say anything, he spun on his heel and ran from the room. When Augustine's breathing changed, she looked at him again. His face grew purple as he gasped for breath, his eyes round and huge. His body shuddered as he gave up his spirit. Edana watched the flicker of life that lit the priest's eyes dim and then squelch completely.

She remained still while Father Egbert whispered more prayers and then reached over to close the man's lifeless eyes.

Standing up, she offered the older priest her arm and helped him to his feet. "Is there anything I can do for you, Father?"

Sighing, Egbert shook his head. "We'll have the funeral tomorrow. I did all I could for Augustine's soul but I fear it was of little use. He made no confession at the end. He wasn't the kind to admit he was wrong. I gave him the last rites. There's nothing more to be done. Take yourself home, child. I must prepare the body."

Edana left as she was bade. Before she went through the door, she looked over her shoulder to see Egbert pull the bedclothes from the corpse. She expected to find Mylward in the kitchen, but it was empty.

Edana discovered him outside taking large gulps of the night air. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her.

"Is he gone?"

She nodded. "I've never witnessed a more tortuous passing."

Mylward huffed. "What a mule! He could have lived to pursue his nefarious intent if he'd accepted your help."

Edana heaved a sigh. "I think he preferred to die rather than trust me. I couldn't force him to take my care. I did all I could for the man." She reached for Mylward's hand and gripped it tightly. "I believe his fate was sealed when he tried to interfere with destiny. Perhaps if he hadn't wished harm on anyone, he'd still draw breath."

"You don't think any other forces were at work?"

Edana furrowed her brow. "Like your God? You can answer that better than I."

He shook his head. "No, I meant maybe the spirits who visited us or maybe our talismans."

"I was taught that spirits can visit us, but they can't interfere on the mortal plane. Our talismans protect us from the evil that men do. There is only one person responsible for Augustine's death and that's Augustine."

Mylward cocked his head. "What about the doctor?"

Edana shrugged. "Trusting the doctor was his choice. I know Goldyna tried to talk Augustine into my cures. I suspect Father Egbert did as well."

Mylward drew a long breath. "So it wasn't part of his threefold visitation?"

Edana drew a deep breath "It may well have been, but it isn't carried out by spirits. It's simply Mother Nature balancing Herself."

She watched as he blinked his eyes. It was a difficult concept to grasp, especially if he'd convinced himself spirits were involved. As he pondered her words she heard the clip clop of horseshoes on the hard packed road. Their heads turned toward the sound.

Moments later Edmund's cart appeared out of the darkness. He called to them.

"Is it done?"

Mylward raised his voice. "It is, Eam."

The reeve stopped Gestum a few feet from them. "Then it's a funeral for me tomorrow. Run inside child and ask Father Egbert when I should be back for the burial. I know he'll stay the night to pray over Augustine."

Goldyna sat beside him, eying the rectory warily. "Am I to stay here tonight?"

Edmund patted her knee. "No, child. You need not ever stay here again. We'll find something else for you."

As the words left the reeve's mouth, Edana found herself saying, "Actually, Edmund, I was hoping to find someone to work with me."

"You're looking for a maid?"

Edana shook her head. "No, I need a helpmeet, not only for housework, but with gathering and preparing herbs. I'll also need help with my new hives and –"

Edmund chuckled. "I don't need the details. I think it sounds like a fine opportunity. What do you think, Goldyna?"

The young girl's eyes were round as saucers as she bobbed her head. "Should I come with you now?"

Edana smiled at her. "Why don't you go back with Edmund and visit with your mader? We were supposed to move into the mill tomorrow, but I suspect we will sleep until late in the day. If it pleases you, you can start Tuesday by helping us clean the mill house."

Edmund rubbed his chin. "You're moving from your grandfather's house?"

Mylward squeezed Edana's hand. "My wife thinks it's better suited to a family."

She chuckled. "And my husband prefers to be close to the mill."

Edmund slapped his thigh. "Then it's settled. Now hurry along, Goldyna. I suspect I won't see much more of my bed tonight, but I want all I can get."

After exchanging goodnights, Mylward and Edana walked toward the mill hand in hand. In silent agreement the couple left the road for the path to Aldefader's house. The wind that had been whispering through the few leaves that clung to the trees grew still. The woods around them became eerily silent. Though it was dark, Edana knew precisely where she was. She walked these paths so often she could walk them with her eyes closed. She'd been in this very spot when she heard the clash on the road.

She squeezed Mylward's hand. "It happened here."

Edana slowed to a stop forcing him to halt as well.

Her husband scanned the darkened forest. "What?"

"This is where I was when I heard the skirmish."

Mylward looked over the bushes to the line of trees. "Yes, the road is on the other side of these brambles."

Edana drew a sharp breath and dropped his hand. With the leaves gone, even in the moonlight a scrap of wool was visible, caught on a thorn. Freeing the piece of cloth, she held it up to show her husband.

"I snagged my tunic while I crept toward you."

Mylward shook his head slowly. "All of the days of going to the mill, I never knew I walked past this place."

Edana knelt by a moss covered rock and then looked up at her husband. "Perhaps we could create a tribute. We'll mark this spot in a way that only we can know to honour those who fell – to let them know they aren't forgotten."

"What kind of tribute?"

Standing up, Edana looked at the blue wool she held. "I'll have to ponder it. Perhaps you could tell me something about each of your friends."

A gust of wind pushed against Edana's back, making her step toward Mylward. It felt like hands propelling her forward. She lowered her voice. "We aren't alone."

Mylward looked about them again. "I don't hear anyone."

"Shh, don't you feel them?"

"I felt nothing but a strong breeze."

Edana stood frozen in place as her cloak swirled around her. Mylward's mouth hung open as he watched her cloak billow and fall. She'd been visited by her grandfather and a few others she couldn't name, but this was different. She felt surrounded. Then the hands were on her back again as a rush of air forced her a step closer to her husband. A pressure Edana hadn't felt growing dissipated and she fell against him. Mylward put his arms around her.

"Edana, are you all right? What just happened?"

"Spirits." She panted as though she'd just been running. "Many of them. How could you not feel them?"

"I saw your hair and cloak moving like you'd stepped into a whirlwind."

Edana drew a long breath. "I've never experienced anything like that before."

"You think it was spirits?"

"I know it was spirits – just not of anyone I knew in life."

"Then who do –" Mylward looked in the direction of the road. "Was it truly them?"

"Who else could it be? It was no one who visited at Samhain."

As Edana finished speaking the wind picked up again and rustled the scant leaves above them. Mylward shivered under his cloak.

"Are you cold, husband?"

"Aye, that breeze carried a chill with it, but it wasn't only that. The sight and smell of Augustine - then this visitation. I'm overwhelmed. I wish I could feel the spirits as you do."

Reaching up to stroke his cheek, Edana smiled. "You did, husband. That breeze was a spirit I'd know anywhere. It was Aldefader, but his presence is warm to me."

"Why didn't his spirit make me cold yesterday?"

"You were in a circle. It protected you."

Mylward's arms slid down Edana's back then fell away from her completely. "Hmm. Spirits can feel warm? Is it something that can be learned?"

She reached for his hand. "Yes, with time. Let's go home. I'll make you some spiced milk and explain."

End chapter 12

End Daughter of the Moon


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